#if i could have sex with the concept of thought processes i would snort that shit and fuck it and--

[craycraybluejay]

Mental checklist of fallacies and biases and everything ever so when the brain comes in with "we've never met anyone who hasn't disappointed us" the Information Center in its soothing robot voice goes "sampling bias. correction; we haven't met anyone who hasn't disappointed us YET."

And this is how I've cheated death by my own hand and others. Logic makes me 🤤🥰

"We should kill ourselves" "what does should mean? is it possible to create a truly realistic pro and contra list of two concepts as unpredictable as life and death?" (I love lists I love liiiists)

"I WANT THE SEX" "how certain are you that this strange man is clean of STIs?" "ah yeah you're right. taking my hookup to get tested then" "social faux pas" "shut up. kidding ily"

"drugs..?" "how much time do we have? did we test it for contaminants? when next are we busy? is it necessary to take it now or is there a more appropriate situation to do that in?" "lesson learned on that last one" "did you double check the BA and interactions?" "triple checked"

"this bitch boutta get slapped into sunday" "what would the consequences of this action be? is it worth it to fight at all even with words? what do we have to lose and what to gain? is there an alternative method to stand up for yourself with less risk?" "you are never quiet" "neither are you"

#i love lists #i love logic #i love. information #logical fallacies #i always got that philosophy braim but its also always got me #that psychedelic MORE MORE MORE and electronic conversion of more into functional tools #i just love the synapses synapsing i love the process of thought #me and logic are homies cuz this bitch impulsive and that bitch VERY thorough #if i could have sex with the concept of thought processes i would snort that shit and fuck it and-- #and im sure it would think me to ecstasy as it does #oh brain wont you quiet down? theres work to be done. sleep to be had. wont you let me go?

[kingofthering]

vr46 marc, 890 words taking place a handful of hours after this

"The fact that you were into men or the fact that you were into me?"

Marc snorts, shrugging his shoulders at Valentino's question. The second option implies the first. The first could have easily been converted into the second, if needs be. They both know it.

Valentino's focus is back on his task at hand when he says "I mean, I had an inkling before. Indianapolis sealed the deal, the months after that didn't exactly show signs of the opposite."

"You never said anything."

Marc's tone is not accusatory, not really. Valentino's face doesn't show any reaction to it. He's still kneading his pasta dough.

"I did not."

"Why?"

Valentino pauses, cleaning his hands on a hand towel before reaching for his glass of wine. Marc watches the way his throat works as he takes a couple of sips from the red liquid.

If Valentino says he wasn't into Marc back then, Marc might have to call him a liar just to avenge his bruised ego.

"It wouldn't have been my first time hooking up with another rider, another rival, and let's say it got messy in the past and I didn't want to go through that again."

Marc frowns, his mind immediately trying to figure out who it could have been, some options more disturbing than others. It's easier to go through that exercise than process the fact that Valentino theoretically wanted him.

"Well, I was older already back then, I probably could have protected myself, not get attached, all that. You were 20 years-old, Marc, I didn't want to mess you up."

So too young to not fall in love with Valentino and suffer the consequences of that but old enough to suffer through his mind games and the stupidest of accusations. Valentino's brain will never cease to amaze him.

Or Valentino stopped caring about his wellbeing the moment he had a Championship bike and Marc was too much of a threat for his goal.

It makes sense. Marc doesn't know if it's more painful knowing Valentino willingly gave up on a relationship he cared about rather than thinking he never cared in the first place. And yet, Marc knows he will always take the first option (means it wasn't all in his head, at least).

"You wanted me," Marc says after a while, because there is so much to unpack there but he needs to start somewhere.

Valentino chuckles. "Is that so hard to believe? Look who's fishing for compliments, now."

Marc shrugs, a smile on his lips as he reaches for the bottle of wine to refill his glass.

"You know what you looked like, face and body wise," Valentino indulges him. "You know what you were like on track. You know what you were like adrenaline filled in parc fermé and on podiums."

Marc feels hot, his cheeks heating up. He thinks about Laguna Seca and the corkscrew overtake he borrowed from Valentino a couple of years prior. He thinks about Barcelona, Valentino's hands around his throat and Marc's family watching them. He thinks about Assen, that last corner and how happy Valentino had been afterward.

And in the corner of his brain, that silly little question : Would you have followed me if I'd taken the first step?

"What about after?" is the question that Marc ends up voicing outloud. "Or did I disgust you too much to even consider hate sex?"

No longer caring about Marc's mental wellbeing was one thing but maybe Valentino didn't even want to touch him. Not that Marc ever thought about it before but now, Valentino strikes him as someone who would enjoy hate fucking you. It has to come with how intense he is about everything.

Marc couldn't for the sole reason that he needs to at least like the person he's intimate with. He doesn't need the romantic connection, he's had great friends with benefits situations and he can do one night stands if he had the time to learn about the other person just a bit.

To be vulnerable in front of someone who doesn't wish him well? A concept he can understand for others but not for him.

"Can't say I've never considered it. Especially after moments where you were infuriating, whether from how stupid you were with your words or how good you were on your bike," Valentino says, way too casual for the words pouring out of his mouth.

Again, realizing the effects Marc has had on Valentino in the past, by just being himself, is as empowering as it is frightening, in a way.

"But," Marc says, because the answer to his question is still missing.

Valentino shrugs. He has put their ball of pasta dough away in a salad bowl and covered it with a towel. He's swinging his wine around by moving his glass in small circles on the table, now. "Didn't feel right."

It's not "I knew you wouldn't be into it".

It's not "I wasn't into you anymore".

It's not "I'm the one that would have hurt himself then", either.

Marc needs free range to study Valentino's brain under a microscope.

#rpf #4693 #my writing #vr46 marc au #still refusing to create a gdoc so I keep writing directly on tumblr #final product is not exactly what I had in mind to begin with but eh

[eldritch-spouse]

I just recently found out about cum rags...

Breg would steal yours in an instant

[Not gonna lie, I've been staring at this ask for some time and going through a multitude of emotions, because the very concept of cum rags makes me want to crawl walls and eat people alive. Horrific. I will still write for this because I think it's a funny kind of nasty.]

TW: Nothing extreme, but there's emphasis on musk and scenting marks.

Breg wouldn't know what a cum rag is, at least not normally. He tries to take care of himself where he knows clean up will be easy, like the bathroom. Though, given his hyper libido, it'll inevitably happen in other parts of the house, living room, bedroom, it's actually quite likely that the breeder has jerked off at least three times in every house division. And sure, while he knows it comes in handy to have some sort of "cloth" around to deal with the initial mess, Breg never had the habit of... Keeping said rag around. Without cleaning it. And, narrow-minded as the monster sometimes is, he assumes other people don't either.

Imagine the absolute confusion in this monster's face as he breaks into your home one day, or maybe, he's already living with you by this point, and finds that cloth... Depending on how often you use it, the smell of cum will be unmissable to Breg as soon as he gets anywhere near where you keep it. The breeder strained his nostrils, but you didn't smell of sex, so it's not as if you had been recently pleasuring yourself or sleeping with another. He would be able to tell, this is not the case.

But the place very clearly smells like cum and your musk.

So something must have happened. And it's driving him slowly insane for a multitude of reasons. The male can keep himself under control for as long as you're inside the house, but the moment you're out? It's time to sniff out whatever's giving off that wonderful scent.

Like a blind hound, Breg uses only his nose to stumble on a hidden little corner of your bedroom, and nearly snarls at the smell that pelts his senses. Lord fuck, it's like snorting a line of coke. That's you, that's all you, those are your fucking smells, your taste, your pretty bits. All of it concentrated in this small, inconspicuous looking rag.

Why though?

Why this specifically? You have a washing machine, why not switch around? Why keep it in your bedroom, spreading the smell of your sex everywhere like a-...

Like an invitation.

Oh. He gets it now. Duh, of course that's what it is! Hah, he's so stupid, how could Breg not have figured that out already? This is totally a human courting practice! Why didn't Fasma tell him about this? You've allowed him to live with you as a trial process, and the breeder has proved himself worthy enough that you have now initiated another stage of courtship, this uh- Scented lure, of sorts.

It's working. Fuck, is it working.

Breg is already hard without even noticing, bringing the cloth to his face with no hesitation, nor thought for that matter. Like the hopeless disgrace of a pervert he'll seemingly always be, the monster licks whatever trace of you feels fresher and brings it to his mouth so he can greedily suck it out for himself. Honestly, part of him wants to eat it. Breg knows better, but the urge is still there while he salivates around the thing.

Feverish with the smell of you, the breeder takes one hazy look at your bed and nods to himself, rising from his crouched stance. The monster picks up all discarded items of clothing that you left in the bedroom, in a hurry to leave, and tosses them onto your recently used sheets. There's an ecstatic grin on his face before Breg quickly jumps into your bed, burying himself there like he wishes to never leave again. Which is true, honestly.

Almost as if a quasi-heat had been triggered within the male, he begins near-frantically rubbing every piece of clothing he gathered against his flickering skin, shivering and getting goosebumps at the mere thought that, maybe one day, his mate will claim him like this. He's already stolen one or two shirts, you'd probably notice if the rag went missing... So instead, after thoroughly covering himself in your heavenly musk, Breg decides to put his own mark on the fabric, by using it to get off as well.

The notion that he's rubbing his cocks with something that's been stained by your genitals and cum has him mad with want, and an even more deplorable side of Breg claims that sharing this miserable little rag with you would be kind of romantic. The large pale monster orgasms with an excited growl, eager to keep his promise of mixing both your scents and letting you know he accepts your offer.

If Breg gave you one of his shirts, would you mark it for him?

When you get back, however long that may take, you'll be greeted by an overly chipper and enthusiastic Breg, who very openly declares he accepts.

You have absolutely no idea what he's going on about until the monster looms at less than arm-length to you, absolutely reeking, from head to toe, of your sweat, musk and cum.

The expectant, flushed look on his features tells you it will be a rough, sloppy night.

#Bregory #disgustaang >:j

[yourtamaki]

history doesn’t repeat, it rhymes

sakusa x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, elements of depersonalization, non-explicit mentions of sex

dedicated to: @onyxoverride (thank you for beta reading) & @saintdabi

you can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection.

it wasn’t deliberate, the way you turned your back to the full length mirror in your closet every morning when you got dressed, how you usually dodged your reflection coming out of the shower like you did just now. at least, not at first. not until you realized how much better you felt now that you didn’t have to come face to face with a stranger everyday. that was the only word to describe whatever lived in the mirror. a stranger. any recognizable part of you had rotted away long ago. all that remained now was an empty husk with dead eyes and a selfish heart. the same selfish heart that set you on this path in the first place. 

was it worth it? you wanted to ask your past self. was his love worth what you did to yourself?

the very first night you met sakusa set the tone for the rest of your relationship. you’re still not entirely sure why you accepted your roommate, hinata’s, invitation to his team’s party to celebrate their record win streak. it probably had something to do with the puppy dog eyes he threw you. regardless, you went, wearing an outfit you were losing confidence in by the second and leaning against a wall as far from the drunk crowd as you could get. you never liked parties like this. too many people, too loud. but for your best friend, you were willing to grit your teeth and bare it. 

a part of you, larger than you would ever admit, wishes you never looked to your left that day. wishes that you never spotted the curly haired man looking so sullen despite half his face being covered with a mask, that you didn’t notice the way his eyes flickered from his empty red cup to where you knew the kitchen to be, how he wearily eyed the crowd of people that separated him from it. 

“i was about to grab a drink. i can bring something back for you if you’d like?” the first thing you ever said to the love of your life was a lie. you were planning on staying tucked in your corner all night, safe from the dancing drunks who had no concept of personal space until hinata was ready to leave. and yet the words were almost ripped out of you the moment your eyes landed on him, a fierce need to help the man flaring up from nowhere. you could only assume he had separated himself from the party for the same reason you had and it pulled on your heartstrings. no one ever noticed when you needed help so why not extend that courtesy to him instead? he blinked at you as though he had to process your offer before he nodded. 

“yes, please i’d appreciate it.” his voice was different than you expected it to be. slow and calm despite the way his fist clenched and unclenched.  “just water. a closed bottle if you can find it.” 

his brows furrowed for a moment when you held out your hand before letting out a quiet ah and handing you his empty cup. it was endearing how he placed it in your hand, balancing it carefully on your palm. 

“be right back.” you shot him a smile and started to make your way across the floor, getting pushed and jostled the entire way there. you made quick work of tossing the garbage into the overflowing trash bag and dug out two water bottles from behind a rack of beer cans in the fridge. the trip back was no easier and you breathed a sigh of relief when you were once again in your small private bubble with the man. the discomfort you endured, the skin crawling sensation of all those bodies too close to you was worth the way his eyes lit up when he saw you’d returned. 

he accepted the cool bottle with a murmured thanks, pulling his mask down and tucking it under his chin. handsome was your first thought and his name was your second. the two distinct moles on his brow should’ve given it away that you were talking to sakusa kiyoomi. you’d seen enough of hinata’s games, heard enough stories to put a name to the face. he held your stare as you placed him in your mind, taking a sip from the bottle as he did. an urge to say something, anything to keep those eyes on you bubbled up hot and fast and you said the first thing that came to mind. 

“my roommate’s your teammate.” 

“is he? which one?” 

“hinata. shoyo.” you added as though there was another hinata on the msby roster.

“ah. my condolences.” the corner of his lips quirked up when you snorted. “i’ve seen how he leaves a locker room. i don’t want to imagine what his room looks like.” 

“it’s not pretty, that’s for sure.” you said, leaning your shoulder against the wall and taking a moment to regard him. “can i ask why you’re here? shoyo told me you don’t like crowds so a party must be hard on you.” 

“would you believe me if i said contractual obligations?” 

“nope cause i helped shoyo go through his contract and i don’t remember ragers being a part of the deal.” a small burst of pride bloomed in your chest when he laughed, a quick huff from his nose and amused eyes as though he didn’t expect it. 

“you got me.” you waited for him to explain and deflated a bit when he remained silent. that is, until you followed where his eyes had wandered. it was easy to spot hinata from across the party. he sat high above the rest of the crowd on bokuto’s shoulders, leaning back occasionally to test bokuto’s reaction time and giggling every time he was caught at the last moment. meian was trying in vain to pull the ginger down while atsumu seemed to be on facetime with someone recording the whole thing, his loud laughter ringing out clearly over the music. 

“you’re here for them?” you said just as the realization dawned on you. sakusa twitched, so small you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been watching him so closely. 

“spending time with your teammates promotes better gameplay on the court.” 

“i’m sure it does. but wanting to hang out with your friends isn’t a crime.” 

“we are hanging out. i’m here, aren’t i? if they wanted to talk to me, they know where to find me.” the bitterness in his tone wasn’t enough to mask the acceptance behind his words, of being resigned to his fate as the forgotten one. 

“well, i found you.” he looked over at you, something unreadable swimming behind his eyes before they softened.

“yeah. you did. you know, you’ve talked a lot about shoyo but i don’t know anything about you. i don’t even know your name.” he said. heat raced to your cheeks, flustered that he seemed to be paying as much attention to you that you were to him.

“i didn’t even notice, sorry.” you said before offering your name. he repeated it back, once, twice, rolling it around on his tongue and you watched his mouth, mesmerized by how it curled around a word you’ve heard your whole life until it sounded new again. he spoke your name in a soft, hushed whisper and you wondered if his lips would feel just as soft. half-lidded, his gaze flickered downwards like he was wondering the same thing.

the rest of the night was a blur in your mind. all you could recall was that you chatted with sakusa until the others found you and you drove a passed-out hinata home with a new contact saved to your phone.  

the reminiscing left you drained, clutching your phone in your hands, the screen frozen on that same contact as you collapsed into bed and yet you couldn’t stop the rest of the memories from flooding through your mind, the truth you’ve been holding off for too long. you’ve picked at a festering wound that was best left alone. if you didn’t think too hard about it, if you ignored how it grew and ate away at you, it wouldn’t hurt as much. right? but it was too late. you’ve pulled the string and now you’re left to deal with your own unraveling. 

you scrolled through your texts for what feels like a lifetime, the entirety of your relationship flashing by and disappearing in an instant until you could scroll no higher. of course you sent the first text. a formal message that didn’t look anything like how you actually text with one too many exclamation points in your desperation to come across friendly. 

your fingers moved across the screen and when your mind caught up, your thumb was hovering over the button to delete the entire conversation. you never wanted to see evidence of who you used to be ever again. you didn’t want to be reminded of the person you cut and broke and killed until they fit into sakusa’s neat life. but sentimentality stilled your hand, the phone dropping from your limp fingers and crashing to the floor. you didn’t bother reaching for it.

the accursed memories refuse to let you be, another bobbing up to the surface from the murky depths and pulling you under before you could stop it. one that showed what little agency you had in your own life.

it started the way it always did. you noticed him. noticed how tired he was every time you spoke. how you went from going out on dates to always staying in to maybe being lucky enough to say good night over the phone before he crashed for the day. and sure, you were lonely. so starved for him it ached. but that was overshadowed by your worry for him. you would lay awake wondering if he’d remember to eat that day, if he had the energy to clean his apartment and if he didn’t, how much was that adding to his stress? 

so you swung by his place the next morning after he had left for practice, spent the day cleaning, restocked his fridge and were nearly done making dinner when he returned. his exhaustion was truly hammered home when he walked straight past the kitchen on autopilot before doubling back, tilting his head at you in confusion. 

“what are you doing here, darling?” 

“helping out.” you turned back to the stove and busied yourself with mindless stirring, afraid that you’d been too eager and overstepped. “you seemed pretty tired these days so i wanted to do something for you but you’re back earlier than i expected so i can just go if you want to be alone just let me-” 

your rambling was cut off when a force barrelled into you and sakusa hugged you tight from behind, head buried in the crook of your shoulder. all at once, whatever anxiety had been growing fled you and you relaxed into his touch. 

“thank you.” it wasn’t the words that made your heart leap to your throat. it was the sincerity, the slight crack at the end that told you he had more he wanted to say but didn’t know how. 

you fell into a routine of going over to his apartment, looking after things, kissing him when he returned and staying over at night. at first, it was once a week. then over the weekend, then every other day. 

“you should move in.” even though you half expected your relationship to take this next step, it still took you by surprise the casual way sakusa brought it up. you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to move in with him just yet. you built a home with hinata and that apartment meant everything to you, all your happiest memories were made there and oh no sakusa was still waiting for an answer.  

“i should?”

“yeah.” 

and that was the end of it. you were packed and out of hinata’s apartment (because it was his now. his and atsumu’s. not yours, it’ll never be yours again) by the end of the month. most of your things didn’t come with you but that was fine, right? so what if you still felt like a guest in your home even to this day with none of yourself being reflected in the apartment? you got to wake up to see the love of your life every day and that made everything worth it. 

until you started waking up alone.  

extra training, he said. the team drafted new players and he had to get used to their play style, he said. and you believed him, trusted that he’d be home with you if he could. so you took the crushing loneliness and swallowed it down like a bitter pill. you smiled wide when he came home late with only the moon to light your bedroom and let him use your body to rid the stress of the day.

the dead of night was the only time you’d have him all to yourself. you could be greedy for his attention when he was buried inside you. it was easy to pretend you clawed up and down his back because you were caught up in the moment and not because you were desperate to keep him close to you. easy to pretend the tears in your eyes were from pleasure and not from how much you missed his voice. 

and when he was empty and spent, you would stroke his hair until he fell asleep and then, only then, would you whisper all the things you couldn’t tell him during the day. small, meaningless anecdotes that you knew would earn you a wry smile if he was awake to hear them, the one he used when he didn’t want to let on how close he was to laughing. the stolen moments were a salve on your fractured heart but it was never enough to heal it. in the end, when you were once again alone in your too-wide bed, it only served to remind you just how deep the cracks were. 

maybe that’s where you went wrong. you gave away your heart to someone and got nothing in return, nothing to plug up the all-consuming void in your chest. there was nothing left of you. no, that wasn’t quite true. there was nothing good left of you. you gave him your best parts and all you had now was pure resentment that burned hot and fierce in your core, so acidic it ate everything in its path. it burned away the dredges of your soul until all you could do was allow it to climb up and scorch your throat in a silent scream. 

another memory. it’s strange what your brain chose to latch onto as you spiralled. on the surface, you remember this to be a happier time. but as it overtook you, you’re reminded almost violently that the edges of this memory are stained with the early decay of your identity. 

before the early mornings and late nights, before you got into the habit of staring at your ceiling and wondering how you got to that point, you and sakusa had a tradition. you’d both find something, a story, a movie, that you think the other doesn’t know and share it with them. that day sakusa came to you with the myth of orpheus and eurydice. 

he told you the story of a man so in love with his wife he journeys to the underworld after she dies to find her, how hades tells him he can guide her to the land of the living but orpheus must trust that eurydice is following him. if he turns around, eurydice’s fate is sealed. sakusa explained how in every version of the myth, orpheus turned around at the very end out of an uncontrollable, unfiltered love for his wife. whether it was because he was excited to see the end of the tunnel and wanted to share his joy with her or because he feared she got lost, either one stems from the love he has for her. the love that sent him to find her is the same love that doomed her in the end. but the more sakusa spoke about orpheus, the more you wondered about the other protagonist of the story. 

“why didn’t eurydice try to let orpheus know she was there? she could’ve held his hand or touched his back or something.” you asked. you were laying your head on sakusa’s chest, letting the low rumble wash over you as he read you the tale. the question had been bugging you as the story came to its conclusion though you couldn’t place your finger as to why.

“she was a spirit. she would pass right through him.” 

“yeah but…” you searched for the words to explain your confusion. “she didn’t even try.” 

“it wouldn’t have mattered either way.” 

you opened your mouth to press the issue further, too stubborn to let it go just yet when you heard sakusa sigh out of his nose. it was enough for any question to die on your tongue and all that came out was a quiet, “i guess so.” 

it was a nothing memory. an empty thing to remind you of better times that you’ve had no need to look back on. so why did that moment swirl around your head now, as you crumbled in your lowest moments? scattered pieces start to form together in the recesses of your mind but before you could call them forth to make a full image, the bedroom door swung open and sakusa walked in. 

for once, you don’t slip on your well worn porcelain mask. you don’t school your expression and force it to mold into something that couldn’t quite be called happy. instead, you sat up straight in bed, held his gaze and did nothing to hide the maelstrom of hurt that raged inside you. a sick satisfaction shot through your veins when his steps faltered at the force of your stare. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked. 

what isn’t? you thought but instead said, “nothing. i was just thinking. about us.” 

“oh.” his eyes are already sliding away from you, a quiet detachment in his voice that made you grind your teeth in frustration. 

“remember that greek story you told me about?” 

“mhmm.” 

“tell me again why eurydice didn’t reach out.” there it is again. a short, sharp exhale from his nose. he opened his mouth but you spoke before he could. “humour me.”

“she was dead, darling. she couldn’t touch him, he couldn’t hear her so there was no point.” 

“no point? there was no point in trying to tell orpheus that she was behind him? he climbed into the underworld for her and she couldn’t try?” 

“could you--?” he cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “it’s late. i’m exhausted and really not in the mood so can we go to bed?” 

“doesn’t that sound familiar?” you continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “one person bending heaven and hell for the person they love while the other can’t even meet them halfway. remind you of anything?” 

now you had his full attention. his brows scrunched together and you’re not sure if he’s trying to figure out the meaning behind your words or the reason for your hostile tone. you don’t feel like helping him out either and instead watched the gears turn in his head with something akin to glee. it’s his turn to be paranoid, to overthink, to pick apart every moment of your relationship and dissect it piece by rotted piece. 

“please don’t be vague. if you’re upset with me, tell me.” it was the most emotion you’ve heard from him in so long, you were taken aback for a moment. 

“i’m a bit past ‘upset’, omi.”

“i’m sorry.”

you scoffed. “you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” 

“you’re hurt and it’s my fault. that's enough for me to say sorry.” 

“you don’t understand.” he crossed the room in three large strides, sitting on the edge of the bed to leave space between you. 

“then help me understand.” 

you floundered for the right words to explain the mountain of revelations you’ve uncovered and settled for, “how do i take my coffee, kiyoomi?” 

he took your use of his full name in stride. “black. one sugar.” 

“no that’s how you take your coffee. that’s the only way you ever make coffee. i had to learn to like it.” 

“what, you’re mad i don’t know how you like your coffee?” you know he didn’t mean anything by it, that’s he's always been more blunt that he means to be but it doesn’t stop you from feeling patronized and the hurt loosened your tongue. 

“it’s not about the coffee! it’s not about the fact that eurydice was a ghost. it’s the effort, omi. you haven’t put an ounce of effort into this relationship. i’m the one who has to bend. i’m the one that has to change, it’s never you.” 

“i never asked you to.” the truth of the statement knocked the air out of your lungs. because that's the worst part, isn’t it? you have no one to blame your misery on but yourself. 

“i don’t know how to love you without sacrificing pieces of myself. and i’m empty, kiyoomi, i've given you all of me. and it feels like you’ve given me nothing in return.”  

his head was bowed while he listened but from how tight he laced his fingers together, you know he was fighting to stay calm. “you know i love you, right?”

“do you? do you love me or love that i’m convenient? love that i clean your place and make you food and have a hole you can--” 

“stop.” you didn’t know it was possible for so much heartbreak to be packed into a single word. it sobered you of your venom and in its place, shame came rushing in. 

“i’m sorry. i'm pissed at myself for letting it get this far and i’m taking it out on you. i don’t regret loving you. but it feels like that’s the only thing living inside me. like i’m not even a person anymore.”

“i should’ve noticed. it shouldn’t have taken you snapping for me to realize what was going on.” 

“maybe.” 

silence, suffocating silence, stretched and morphed time until it felt like you’ve aged a decade in a moment. and then sakusa spoke.

“you’ll help a stranger just because they look like they might need it and ask for nothing in return. you’ll make someone food just so you can be sure they ate that day. you’ll tell me about your day while i fall asleep and i don’t think i could sleep without hearing your voice. you’re kind and too selfless for your own good and the best person i’ve ever met. it kills me that i’ve been the cause of your pain.”

it was strange hearing those traits spun in a good light when you’ve thought of them negatively for so long. strange knowing where you saw faults he saw things worth admiring. “you hear me at night?” 

“and you like focusing on minor details. yes, darling. every night.” 

“oh.” 

“i understand if you need… space, if you want to spend some time apart. but give me a chance. please. give me a chance to prove how important you are to me. i’m sorry that i’ve failed you. i’m sorry i've been taking you for granted. but that ends now. never again. 

“and i can help you, too. i can remind you of all the parts you say you’ve lost. i’ll tell you all about the person i fell in love with everyday if you need it. i’d never run out of things to say. please. you found me once, let me return the favour and help you find yourself. if-if you’ll have me.” 

his small speech wasn’t the reason tears stung the back of your eyes. as he finished speaking, sakusa reached out across the space between you and offered you his hand. a lifeline that you took, the lump in your throat to keeping everything you wanted to say stuck inside you. thankfully, you needed no words for sakusa to understand you. he brought your joined fingers to his lips and let out a shaky breath against them. the two of you stayed like that for a small eternity, drifted apart yet holding together with a bridge to link you. you’ve been fueled by resentment and anger for so long, you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to let them go. but you did know that you didn’t want to try without him by your side. 

#sakusa x reader #sakusa angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

#btswritingcafe #bts #bangtansorciere #kim seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #kim seokjin angst #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #seokjin smut #jin smut #bangtanedu #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtaninn #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #kim seokjin fluff #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #bts jin smut #bts jin fluff #bts jin angst #seokjin angst #bts angst #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #jin angst #bts fanfiction #ficswithluv

[sugar-petals]

Baekhyun Doms You: Ending Up Laughing

↳⎡NOTE.⎦thought this’d be an interesting concept & a different side to smut: what if you try things out and it’s both not your thing? w/ a humorous twist and subby bf moments sprinkled in 😄

♡  words. 4k

+ tags ⚠️ pwp hc, bondage, throatfucking, graphic, cum play, unsafe/clumsy practice: do not recreate, degradation, biting, masochist bbh, domme!reader switches unsuccessfully, whips, hair-pulling

imagine that. a wide-eyed baekhyun pacing and tiptoeing in front of your toy shelf, trying to pick a riding crop he fancies. it takes five minutes and several ‘uhh, ohh’ confused puppy noises until he’s able to decide which one he’s taking. 

...literally even if he knows exactly which one does what. you’ve used all of them on him. 

meanwhile, you take three seconds flat to pull out one that fits your mood and proceed to edge the living shit out of him. yes, without literal further ado. teasing his dick and marking his thighs and doing all kinds of delicious things. 

he’s still going back and forth in his head without having even started out. cutely tapping and swaying from one foot to the other. 

it’s like he’s back to school. priceless.

what’s even more hilarious: baekhyun practices random mean facial expressions while trying to decide. he doesn’t seem to be sure what character he’s going for. it feels like he’s rehearsing for a concert or photoshoot, even. absolutely fascinating to watch. 

i mean he’s absolutely photogenic no doubt about that but

you’re sitting on the bed waiting naked like okay is this gonna be william shakespeare deluxe or what is kyoong channelling over there

“um... i think i got it! this one, okay? i’m ready!”

finally he walks over, strutting with his nose in the air and his eyes glaring, muscles tense, a mysterious bad boy charm about him, whip ready to sting, lips tight and punitive...

....and hits his pinky toe on the bed

oh the pain

great master baekhyun flops headfirst into the sheets processing the existential cruelty of bedpost pinewood and needs head pats to recover

lots of head pats

at least twenty of them

so many head pats

more time passes until kyoong is back in character i guess

you probably could have listened to exo’s whole discography in the meantime

and knitted a rug for taemin’s new flat

anyway

baekhyun tries to act very confidently finally getting into it 

adopting a sharp ‘hmph’ kind of tone 

endlessly teasing your back and thighs with the riding crop

so far so good sir pinky toe

but he just goes on and on

you could actually crochet a pair of socks for chen’s daughter now that you think about it

it’s you who has to tell him to get to the point and it’s clear he’s more nervous than he pretends to show

to be fair he’s not the only one

you try to get yourself mentally ready but you find yourself giving him actual orders and even correcting his stance five times cuz he’s so wobbly on the mattress like a pupper indeed

baekhyun mumbles to himself and has a hard time fully implementing the advice on posture but tries to aim well regardless. it seems to work at first

but tragically

he ends up with a miss, hitting his own thigh rather than your ass and moans out loud

now you’re the one confused because you were waiting for the whip to come down

but nope it went elsewhere did it

you wonder how he managed to do all that furious fencing in the obsession mv with an aim like that

looks like he’s so submissive, he straight up whips himself

taking matters into his own hands is he. subs these days.

baekhyun keeps on being wobbly on the bed and looks like he ran a marathon already

may i remind you that this guy does 3-hour long concerts and can practice throughout an entire night

... you both agree to immediately scratch that completely after his next flailing strike sends the riding crop flying into his unsuspecting, non-consenting plushie collection

animal cruelty

moving on

you figure that a change of location might be a good idea

baekhyun sits you down on a chair and bashfully stores away the yeeted whip

he vows to never use a riding crop again already and his teddy bears are thankful for it

now the whole plushie village and whole china knows how you don’t do it

next up is rope

what could possibly go wrong

he practiced wrist bondage on his own ankles for five days straight, you really prepared a lot of things to test out together today 

and he’s seen you tie him up over and over and over

but whatever it is that he manages to install on your arms 

looks like a piece of very experimental modern art that just sold for half a million at sotheby’s

what’s supposed to be a column tie is nothing but a mere... ball

chaotic like baekhyun’s personality. not surprising at all

wait that rhymed

anyhow

even alexander the great couldn’t have cut this gordian knot of a tangly masterpiece

ironically: while baekhyun’s roughly grabbing your chin for an intense kiss... the rope casually falls apart harder than the soviet union in 1991 my loves, you ain’t ready

baekhyun takes ages to notice while he’s teasing and kissing you and ends up sweating bullets when he realizes that the sublime art fell to pieces.

sorry comrade 

the fantasy knots and artistic freedom increases even more when it comes to putting a collar and leash on you

and his guy is supposed to be a dog owner? mongryong, instruct your man

baekhyun is a flustered mess trying to fasten it on you even if he tries very hard to be concentrated

maybe it’s because you’re watching him with literal hawk eyes checking every move (...hoping he learned something from you oh my). you’re not really melting into your role either, huh. the only thing melting is your pussy because baekhyun is acting so embarrassed which is the actual turn-on

if that doesn’t give you away

the leash comes off in two minutes time after baekhyun miraculously ties his own hands together with it

how the fuck did that happen

how do you even manage to do that

eager are we

after whipping his own thigh, self-domination 2.0 i guess

so whipping and bondage are off the programme 

this has been the most chaotic and hazardous attempt at topping in the history of sm entertainment

and they’re literally called s and m

...humiliation is next

when you planned your session you both figured hey he’s tested and tried by exo’s lively debate culture and he might be able to pull that off

and there are no props involved so he’ll have an easy time right

life is an illusion

you find out he can’t pronounce degrading names clearly because he keeps on stuttering them. which in return makes baekhyun crack up. 

carrying on the joke, you correct him every time. 

“i want you to repeat after me: stupid, slutty, bitch.”

it ends up as you doing what you always do 

teaching and training him while baekhyun either shyly or brattily obliges. you don’t even notice how you’re doing it but from the outside, it’s blatantly obvious.

because your brain is still feeling in domme mode, you also find yourself saying the usual things to him without thinking, even when he grabs you and gives orders. “now bend over! i’m gonna fuck your brains out.” — “okay, cutie!” 

which causes baekhyun’s mean face to collapse and he snap out of his command tone immediately, snorting because it’s the last thing he expected

he tries to carry on by punishing you with an actual mouth gag and a harness he can hold onto while fucking you from behind, i mean your pussy is already wet why not

guess what’s gonna ensue

wearing a harness feels kind of strange and new so you wiggle back and forth and all over the place. like what is this, what’s happening. baekhyun’s dick is going into all kinds of directions my friends, the amusement park carousel surely inspired this fucking style right here. 

and wearing a gag — there’s a way different person who needs to have this in his chatty mouth. 

kai and kyungsoo’s dream would come true and yet you’re the one gagged 

something ain’t right

if you’re honest. you’re feeling so weird being on the other end of punishment tonight and not being able to give him any directions. your dom brain is worrying he’s all left to his own devices trying to drive that confused dick home left and right and above and below and diagonal and crosswise. 

the fuck

your poor guts my god

what’s worse: his stamina is gonna sneak up behind him and tap on his shoulder like... bro that’s enough pounding for a whole month please spare these balls from deflating please do not break this device

to which your pussy agrees in unison

how are you gonna love your bub day in day out if you’re that sore

there’s nothing more frustrating than being sore and horny with byun baekhyun at your disposal

or a knocked out boyfriend trying to generate at least a sprinkle of semen after getting completely emptied in one go

probably sleeping for three days straight

alright so the harness and gag come off fast oh dear baekhyun clears those away in a heartbeat

that’s another point off the list 

the more you know

carousel cringe dicking down type of dominance... bizarre, disorderly, totally erratic, not on the agenda, worst rated on bing 

comrade baekhyun keeps on apologizing for making things so messy even if he tries and tries

you’re both so puzzled because you’re used to something so different and need a water chugging pause

baekhyun hasn’t sweated this hard since doing the MAMA choreography

and your pussy has never had to provide this much lubrication at once

where on earth is both of your usual stamina what happened

if a type of sex exhausts you fast and even baekhyun’s balls are suddenly moody you just know you’re wired in the opposite way

safe to say you’re better at giving and baekhyun is better at taking

leave the multidirectional powerfucking to kai or something

and being orderly to xiumin

another rug could have been knitted my friends 

moving on dot org

so, you both figure to take it easier and try to go with something he usually does in passing. you know, turning a typical baekhyun habit into something you can try out casually in bed so he can tease you.

that one should work out right?

proceed: teeth action. you seated, him positioning himself above you. after your approval baekhyun pulls your hair back to expose your neck — so he can deliciously bite into it (or so was the plan). 

reality: his hand gets tangled up completely. 

while he’s busy nibbling and giggling about like a lil’ bunny chomping at a carrot that turns out to be extremely ticklish herself. 

in fact, you start squeaking out a wonky high pitch, startling baekhyun’s fine musical ear to the bone by the obvious atonality. did she just try to outsing my vocal range with a creaking whistle note? 

mariah carey would cancel you on twitter over this one

that’s how you turn a vicious, possessive bite into an eternal meme

every time either of you go for a neck kiss, you end up imitating each other. baekhyun has immortalized himself as a nervous chomping bunny and you as the vocalist anti-christ

lord have mercy

you miss your old sex life already and it’s only been two hours

cause you see... if baekhyun gives you the chance to bite him? he needs a set of long sleeves, scarves, and an extra soft pillow to sit down on for the next two days

like, no mercy bitch

you get right down to business and ravage him and do it properly until he cums in his pants

sure, the way he uses his tongue now is definitely kinda hot mind you

baekhyun is always good with his singing equipment that doesn’t suddenly change aye

and you keep your eyes closed

but with time you notice that he starts drooling and whimpering. baekhyun’s wet mouth is out there betraying him, huh.

same with your body. your reactions give you away, body language just won’t lie. you have a damn hard time staying still. you wanna do something, you wanna touch and guide baekhyun all over.

and vice versa baekhyun keeps on glitching and doing the same thing he really became a living tumblr gif now

this whole session is just so confusing and laced with all these moments of awkwardness it’s really telling you something about yourself and mister pinky toe’s ideal dynamic

baekhyun can’t even get himself to even lightly slap you properly. and when he does, his delicate hands are just so cute. it’s as if legolas came along, scented in jasmine, elegant and fabulous like it’s a l’oreal commercial

he immediately looks concerned after he manages to do it cleanly and you admit it wasn’t really that exciting a feeling yourself. it felt more like, “um ouch, and?”

needless to say, you’re weirded out if anything, baekhyun smacking and dragging you around as a cold-as-ice dom is just a strange thing to do for both of you 

like even exo’s wolf era fashion was more coherent than this carrot fuckery

and those were some of the most intense turtlenecks ever 

is there really nothing dominant baekhyun can pull off. come on he’s the genius idol 

actually 

there’s something that does work out for once

because no rule without exceptions indeed

because hey, you can learn something anyway, it’s the whole point of you going through a list of things to try as a couple

baekhyun is good at doing the more hardcore, faster kind of fingering. who would have thought, totally surprising, revolutionary i know. but that’s where you’re both agreeing hey, there’s some untapped potential you can use for the steamier evenings you have going. 

cuz wow, he can get you off with flying colors. 

...only to succumb to a malfunctioning bobohu wrist 

even baekhyun’s boner for your legs in latex isn’t that stiff

it’s another pause until his hand loosens up again

this poor man just can’t win

and if you’re asking oi hard domming isn’t the only thing you can do

baekhyun trying to summon his inner soft dom: surprise, same old tale. here we go again.

your boyfriend thinks he generally looks way too puppy-like to be your big ole buff daddy taking care of you. oversized sweater, fluffy hair and all. 

you say to him well, it’s not that doms can’t wear casual things. but it’s true that you have to feel your role and find yourself believable. regardless of your looks, in fact. 

unless your partner really enjoys you dressing up as some kind of dominant hyper-archetype? looking the part is relatively unimportant if you’re absolutely made for dominance you say

pretty eye-opening moment for him

in your roleplay, he caresses and kisses you to the point, he can approach and lead you to do this or that position, don’t be mistaken. and he’s good at making presents, he’s indulging you perfectly well and actually likes doing it. but... it still ends up being more vanilla than not a few hours in. the d/s is out the door almost automatically the longer you do it.

at the end, it leaves you with a feeling of “but err, what now? give the maid outfit to charity?” 

baekhyun rubs his neck in search for something else to do, both of you staring at each other with expressions blanker than kyungsoo when a prancing chanyeol is acting up.

how did the quote go again. if you scramble for inspiration, let it be?

it’s exactly that situation when baekhyun soft doms. he can hold you tight and do his thing for a while, but the chemistry of your roles is dwindling into a question mark.

in fact. there’s an uneasy silence as if great mother suho was sitting right beside you critiquing baekhyun’s sugar daddy skills

baekhyun is rich like a motherfucker and can’t even call you ‘my innocent lil’ baby girl’ without looking like he just learned a first grade tonguetwister by heart

you did play your parts with less cracking up, but you clearly tell him that there’s still something strangely clueless and “ah, awkward” (baekhyun’s verdict in response, verbatim) in between the two of you. 

when you take care of baekhyun and tuck him in, you hardly run out of ideas. it just goes on and on. even when you played through an entire scene, you both come up with things to extend the scenario because it’s so much fun. you make him a hot chocolate, massage his feet, brush his hair, do some extra light bondage with a silk ribbon around his ankles to make him feel pretty, feed him pizza, have him cuddle up in your lap, pinch his ass, and do some rimming if he’s feeling a bit hornier. 

the spoiling is nice at the start, but there’s something missing. you want to lead his hands and really treat him, and do it all the time, and baekhyun really finds himself craving it as well. 

baekhyun soft domming quickly turns into — well just normal loving makeouts and gestures. you kiss and touch, there’s nothing hierarchical about it, nothing mega juicy or exciting.

you just don’t get into the groove, you know. there’s nothing particular happening if you try to get into those roles. it doesn’t titillate both of you for an extended period of time, it doesn’t make you curious for more. it’s like... shrug. what about it. 

when you usually dominate, you know something hits home when you think about it all day. baekhyun screaming and crying with his legs twitching pops up whenever you close your freaking eyes goddamn.

you make a note to observe whether you’re going about your daily business thinking about how you could be his innocent good girl. following his every whim, making big eyes at him or something. 

result: more shaky, ruined baekhyun moaning his soul out in the highest of notes and leaking cum everywhere from getting choked and his face sat on. 

daddy baekhyun has simply not crossed your mind. in fact, poor guy no chance to fit in there from the get-go. his particularly whorish, extra subby counterpart is all over your brain cells with his tongue out. and you’re very tempted to grab it between your thumb and index and spit in his mouth for some very good measure. maybe cum in it as well.

um. so there’s that. the more you know.

baekhyun figures as much himself and you try the other side of the equation. oh, oh. here comes hard dom baekhyun.

who gets you on your knees and starts a wild deepthroat session while calling you names. that’s all well and good... nope. your gag reflex decides to yeet some weird coughing facial expressions and reflex cock bites at poor baekhyun who doesn’t know what’s happening. to finish him off completely, you sneeze while having a hiccup and his dick slips out. 

... you both safeword at the same time.

that cleanup has scarred you both for life. what the everloving fuck. no more impulse throatfucking in this pure christian household, then. 

you’ll stick to lazy, twirling, indulgent blowjobs and the usual ruined orgasms for him — the actually planned ones, jesus christ.

like seriously. you invented a whole new language with those confused gargling noises and that wasn’t french, it was advanced level klingon. baekhyun repeats asking if you’re okay and you’re still stuck realizing oh hell, that was not pretty. off the bucket list, you like sucking him off but this style just doesn’t come natural to you. 

the popsicles you could train yourself with are usually gone from the freezer within a day after getting the groceries. baekhyun is wholeheartedly addicted to them. 

he loves cheating on his diet since you told him his fully cheeks are your emotional support squish and kiss pillows, so.

baekhyun rightfully insists he’s better at eating pussy the wild way in the first place — and that you have no business choking on his dick like you’re on hot ones eating the world’s spiciest whatever is trending now.

or actually... baekhyun’s dick can’t be compared to a chili pepper if we’re doing a choking analogy alright. that just doesn’t fit his promotion concept. cinnamon stick is more like it.

ever saw one of these terrible cinnamon spoon videos where reckless people try to defeat god by— anyway, you’ve seen them. that’s how you looked like trying to get your mouth fucked. i think god would actually be defeated by how far away from divine elegance that was and you’re so sorry for subjecting baekhyun to this artless display. 

cinnamon is still best used in small doses. say, for garnishing a creamy cake or pie y’know. 

anyway. you dished up the most butchered attempt at sexy gagging in history and so, baekhyun will preach for days how he’s the one chosen by fate to push down seven big fat inches of your strap still half asleep without even blinking. 

... and that his world-class operatic breath control would probably enable him to bury his face in your pussy on mount everest. baekhyun knows that every domme would sell her soul to get a sub as skilled with breathing as him.

...and that he has the official copyright for giving quality slobbery oral with quality smudged tears. as he will demonstrate to you almost daily from then on. king of messy head and going stupid with the tongue acrobatics. ugh, the noises are amazing, too. give him a grammy for his oral sounds.

gotta leave the heavy-duty work to the experts innit.

at dinner, he also poutingly brags how he can make his spit run out of his nose while he’s sucking himself through your entire dildo collection. and blow spit bubbles. and snort his own semen off his thighs and let it drop off his tongue if he’s in a particularly slutty mood. or a creampie. jeez, baekhyun, the wolf of wallstreet is strong in him. you literally have to stop him from showing off because “hey boy, i already know! i’ve seen it last week bro it was good!”

needless to say he’s talking in essays all day because he wants things go back to normal and he doesn’t have to ask twice.

for real, your candy man with the cinnamon stick has been suffering from the love bites and has to retire his cock for two days from the bruising. 

mind you. the pain he can deal with. that ain’t the problem. by all means, man. he’s a fucking masochist. 

it’s actually more like... submissive you has deactivated his boner and he can’t help it. it’s not you that makes him limp, it’s more like, the klingon choking and the ton of mishaps that just don’t sit right. 

baekhyun feels bad about not doing well enough to make both of you have a good time as well which is lowkey heartbreaking. you have to cheer him up with ‘now repeat after me: stupid, slutty bitch’ jokes to make him chuckle at least a bit.

cuz you gotta understand, baekhyun is very ambitious to develop his talents in all areas of life. if there’s a skill he gets stuck with and he can’t work with his potential, that’s so unusual to him.

and you say man, imagine if you were some kind of uber-talented dom. that’d still not make me sneeze any less.

if you dominate him, it feels easy to do. nothing can really ruin the mood, not even when the lube runs out (baekhyun drools enough to make anything slippery okay). 

except maybe when xiumin rings on landline because he left his favorite fluffy sweater in the subway and needs to vent about it. my god that’s such a tear-jerking story i’m close to sobbing. this shit could kill literally any boner.

or when your hand cramps up after shoving your fingers down his throat and in his ass for like half an hour which should be ranked first as the saddest anime betrayal of all time but it’s justifiable and you had a lot of fun beforehand.

in other words. only the things outside of your control tend to mess with your femdom business. in and of itself, nothing can kill your vibe except a dying battery obviously. 

whereas you trying submission oddly spoils the atmosphere from the inside out and provides a free cringe compilation. like without even doing much, it happens automatically. 

baekhyun relishes in dramatically recounting how you both looked like true clowns attempting a rendition of overexpensive, extra tangly contemporary art bondage. hell, not even employed clowns, completely retired ones, struggling to regain their tightrope tricks from summer 1912 when harry houdini was still hot shit in town. 

you say oh god, that wasn’t even worth a retired clown’s skillset, clowns work damn hard man. you’d be hardpressed to find any circus artist capable of cracking a whip onto themselves baekhyun-style and moaning out loud because it was this good. seriously. that was one for the books.

if baekhyun tried to set foot in some willy-nilly maledom porn, he’d be capable of firing himself on the first day. 

at the end, you just have a good laugh, man. you agree — hey, this ain’t it, but it’s good to know at least. tried and tested, been there, done that. self-whipping and carrot-nibbling and blowjob hiccups.

if you’re both so hopeless and living up to the challenge managed to upset poor mariah carey instead of giving you a hot and steamy time, you very well know where you belong. that’s a good feeling. assuring and a confidence boost for your skills. it makes up for all the clumsiness actually. 

exactly because the try-out part was an entire disaster, domming baekhyun will be even more fun, you can’t see it becoming anywhere near boring. it never really was, but now you know where your strong suits are even more so. and — what to avoid, anyway. 

no more unsafe practice and teddy whipping under this roof my friend

and something to incorporate more often which is baekhyun unleashing his very creative, pianoesque fingering skills on you.

you have lots of anecdotes to rile each other up as well. or, at least, tease another a bit. your high note was too legendary not to be remembered.

baekhyun will use all of these things against you in a positive way if you get what i mean. he’ll say how you being so strangely vocal made him realize just how commanding and compelling your sexy time voice is when you tell him how to kneel, how to kiss, how to revere.

and you teasing him how clumsy a dom he is makes baekhyun more self-assured in his subbing abilities. he knows for a fact you’ve not once roasted him about how well he can use his pretty mouth. cuz it’s the real deal. sloppy, skilled, and eager to please. he’s damn right about that.

hitting his toes has ruined baekhyun’s whole career as a dom and he was mad at first but he did realize that beside the clumsiness, subbing just suits him well as a principle

your experience gives you even more anticipation for all the sex you will have in the future. 

you already knew what you both liked. you know it even more now, it’s underlined, it’s a big relieved yes. no more cringey “daddy, daddy, choke me please!” worship. time to make his day and sit on baekhyun’s perfect face to fuck the shit out of it. 

or you know, actually land a whip on his juicy boyfriend thighs and listen to those heavenly loud reactions in a dead-on pitch (he usually moans in C minor).

long story short and cinnamon sticks aside. it’s even more fun now. you just love your cute subby boy just as he is. he doesn’t have to try to be anything else or step up his game. he’s so ideal just doing what he does like a real angel.

more subby stuff: m.list + ao3

↳⎡FINAL NOTE⎦i love writing crack lmao i hope you were rolling on the floor like i did 😂 write me your favorite part in the comments so we can laugh again and buy me a ko-fi if you wanna 👍

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun #exo smut #exo #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun hc #sub!baekhyun #baekhyun crack #exo crack #dom!baekhyun #baekhyun headcanon #sub!exo #baekhyun bullet points #exo hc #exo headcanons

[xxrainstormxx]

Birthday Gift. Spencer Reid x Reader (Smut)

(A/N: So I've found out Spencer content gets the most attention and hes my favorite so there is no problem here. And no one is making requests. So I'm doing my best. Maybe I should stick to Spencer XD. Anyway. 10 year age gap. Hope you don't mind. Anyway it’s Spencer’s 30th birthday. in this story. Send in some requests!) Word count: 3,000

Spencer was watching (Y/N), they were drinking with Emily and laughing at stupid things. He had been in love with (Y/N) for years. They were a writer who was now working at the BAU as an agent now. He had always found it endearing how they managed to keep writing books while also doing their work as an agent. 'How is someone so stunning, smart, and funny at the same time?' He thought to himself. (Y/N) giggled and walked over sitting in front of him "Earth to Spencer Reid~" They teased as they waved their hand in front of his face. He blushed realizing he'd been staring, and the loud music rushed back into his ears as he was sucked from his thoughts back to reality. The bar, it was a club but he was now 30 and didn't want to admit that, was loud and the music was the absolute worst thing he'd heard. "You good wonder boy?" they asked smiling slightly worried. "Oh yeah!" he called loudly, the music nearly drowning out his gruff voice. They just giggled and nodded "Not my setting" he finished his statement with a chuckle. "Would never have guess" They grinned tauntingly. The playful leer was enough to make his heart melt. Romance was never Spencer's strong point, but for (Y/N), he made a special exception. There were just ways they made him feel human, he didn't like to admit how the others treated him like some alien. "You seem like the introverted type" They smiled "Skipping, what... basically ten years of school does that." they hummed. "did you know that school is actually designed for extroverts along with basically being outdated in the sense of its teaching you how to work for a factory?" he hummed happily "Spence, wonderboy, baaaaaaaby!" they called with a giggle "I love ya facts normally, but I am just a little to drunk to really process what you are saying!" The 24 year old giggled. "Its your birthday, and I respect ya! I do, but everyone is drinking way too much" They giggled. 

"Right. That's the reason you don't wanna listen" He laughed softly. He didn't mind usually being told to stop spewing facts as long as it was (Y/N) telling him. It was a specially thing they had where it wasn't disrespectful or out of annoyance. It was because they genuinely appreciated what he said and just wanted to understand it better. So he had no reason to not listen to them, their relationship was really a wonderful thing and he cherished it. "You know i love you and your facts!" they squealed leaning on him. "Oh I know" he laughed gently kissing their forehead softly, the mostly platonic kiss was always a thing between them. The team always thought of it like a quote "father, child" thing but that just hurt his feelings. The thought that he really never had a chance because he was "too old" for the only person that really understood him. Age gaps were always controversial especially since they saw the grossest of age gaps between an adult and literal children. It made zero sense in his mind as to why they didn't like it, there were much worse things it could be an he certainly wasn't old enough to be her dad. Maybe it was his own fucked up justification for the way he felt but (Y/N) certainly didn't look like a child nor act like one. They had a mature figure, one that if they bent over at just the right angle over a desk, or pouring over a file, or even interrogating he felt he would just about die. They dressed in a very professional way despite their young age just as he had at the same age. They took themselves seriously but also knew when to call it quits or make fun of themselves. They were a perfect blend of human. He stared at their lips, wondering how soft they really were, and questioning why they used a chapstick that gave off such a strong scent that reminded him of sugar, and he wondered if it had a taste, like cherry, or plum. He wondered if he could make their voice crack as he drew circles on their body with his fingers only to touch what really mattered. He wondered if he could make their perfect mouth cry out his name in pure ecstasy how sweet they would feel clenched around his- "-SPENCER!" they squealed laughing "you've been staring into space for at least 7 fuckin minutes" they snorted tapping his nose softly making him blush. "You okay Dr." they asked affectionately. "y-Yeah course I am" he whispered, it wasn't exactly good for their location but they seemed to understand, but he wasn't okay. He was hard, and uncomfortable. He was thankful that the bar could hide it well enough, because the jeans he wore for the sake of his party weren't doing any favors to hide his friend. "You sure? You seem a little uncomfortable" they commented leaning towards him. 

He could practically feel their shaky drunk breath on his neck and god that didn't help. Their body was stunning in the outfit they had chosen, a simple black top with waist high black skinny jeans and dark green and blue painted combat boots. their body retained its beautiful shape clothes taking the shape of them. They way they stared at him brought back all the thought, making him wonder what their hair would look like as he splayed them out on his bed making them bounce and beg for more and more of him. The doctor was seen as no innocent the idea of him having these thoughts was only a fake concept to them. "Just fine. Bar seats aren't the best to sit on" he laughed softly "Then lets dance!" (Y/N) grinned grabbing his hand pulling him out of seat. The music had changed thanks to Emily practically begging to slow dance with the date she had brought. The idea of being so close thrilled Spencer normally but his current situation made it actually impossible to comprehend and made the anxiety of the situation overwhelming. They giggled "I-I'm really not in the mood to dance." he squeaked out "it'll be fun- come o- OH!" they squeaked after pushing close to him to dance they realized just why he was so flustered and uncomfortable. What caught him by surprise, was they didn't pull away. "S-sorry- I tried to be subtle, b-but y-you.... you uh..." he sighed "I just.... need the uh... space to get rid of it.... and if you want to we c-can dance after" He muttered flustered, but (Y/N) didn't move. "(Y/N), are you okay? Y-you haven't moved." he squeaked again as they pushed as closed "Act natural. You don't want the rest of the team knowing do you. If you walk away suddenly they'll know" they said softly swaying with him to the music. He shivered wiggling "you c-can't... shift like that." he gasped quietly "it's..." he mewled quietly turning red. They could have left they didn't have to be so close, they didn't have to touch him, wait, they were touching him, like, hand in the pants, touching! "Bathroom" they whispered in his ear before leaving him literally wanting. He followed after a few moments of shock. This was all very new, he'd only ever masturbated but now he was going to straight to sex in public. Holy shit. He walked in confused hearing the door behind him and lock. He turned only to be pushed against the outside of the stall. "I checked, no one is in here" (Y/N) said quietly getting onto their knees. "w-wh-why?" he yelped quietly "What do you mean?" they asked working his belt glancing up to him. "Why a-are you do-doing this for me?" he stuttered "I want to? duh." they giggled and kissed the top of his pelvis. "N-no, why...?" he panted nearly throwing his head back in anticipation. "Do I need to spell out the fact that I like you?" they purred tugging down his pants "I... I like you too." he whispered pulling them to their feet. "What are you-" they squeaked before Spencer pulled them close into a kiss. Both of them had wanted this for way too long, and so the sweet innocent kiss quickly escalated into a tangled mess of limbs, grabbing, and panting. "Lets go to my apartment, I don't want to do this here." he whispered "I've pictured you too many times to not do this right." he growled kissing down their neck as they mewled "Got it. Thi-think the others will noticed?" (Y/N) questioned before gasping as they were grabbed and slowly rubbed "Do you want to really think about them now?" he whispered nipping their ear softly "god no. I'll meet you there" they whispered pulling back and left to quickly go. Spencer swiftly heeded telling all his friends he was tired. Thankfully they hadn't connected his need to leave to (Y/N)'s and he was gone. 

(Y/N)'s P.o.V

I somehow arrived after Spencer, probably because he didn't have alcohol in his system. I wasn't exactly drunk, just buzzed, but I needed to be careful still. Getting pulled over was no ideal. I made my way up to his floor quickly, Spencer liked me, he liked me and that was enough for me. He had even kissed me, age gap... no age gap, agent, not an agent, I loved him. And I had been since we properly became friends. I personally didn't believe in love at first sight but god I know about attraction and want. I knew what I wanted, and that was Spencer Reid, I'd take him however I could. I came up behind the man himself kissing his shoulder as he struggled with his key. I reached around grabbing him and stroking him slowly. "Hurry up wonder boy." I blew against his ear causing him to grunt "You aren't helping" he groaned bucking up into my hand. "Are you a top or a bottom?" I teased as he struggled more, "I can imagine you on the bed, panting and moaning as I ride your cock." I ran my finger up his shaft slowly causing him to moan "You begging for more. Crying out my name. I bet you couldn't be a top if you wanted" I snapped teasingly. The door flew open and he pulled me in, pinning me against the wall causing a breathy moan to slip through my slightly dry lips. He slammed the door lifting my leg grinding against me. "Are you always such a brat when you're horny?" He moaned softly sucking softly on a spot on my jaw. "And what if I am?" I mewled, before crying out as he slammed against the wall bucking against me teasingly. The clothes being in the way pissed me off slightly. A small string of curses left his mouth "It's fucking hot." He muttered. It was a little shocking to hear to Spencer curse but it was enough to make me shut the fuck up for a second. "God fuck me" I gasped rolling my hips against his needily "you know. You were the only person who didn't get me a birthday present" he hummed softly "M-maybe b-because I planned on something like this" I muttered. It was the truth, I planned on confessing and had a backup present in my car. I knew full well that I wanted to do this tonight, I even put a condom in my pocket. "Wow. Such a naughty whore." I mewled at the sentence, something about Spencer saying that was enough to nearly kill me there. I groaned in pleasure pushing down on his dick. "I want you. I want you so bad!" I dragged my nails down his chest panting already. He groaned picking me up, I used the opportunity to kick my shoes off and he walked us to his room as I worked on throwing off my shirt. He attacked my chest with love bites and kisses as he pinned me to the bed giving me a chance to work at his shirt and belt. "shit" he whispered biting his lip "you look just as good as I imagined you would." he moaned rolling his hips against me once again. The clothes were really on my nerves "off" I hissed, tugging at my own pants "now! please god!" I moaned, I rolled my hips up gasping. "Why should I?" he whispered chuckling. He was so fucking hot like this. His gruff voice just kept making me shiver and I whined "Because I need you too." I moaned legs finally free of my stupid tight pants. Beauty is pain, he sighed "Such a brat" he growled and pulled himself out of his pants making me drool at the sight "I shouldn't-" he began making me whine "-but you're too much to resist" He muttered kissing me. 

I kissed back after a moment of not expecting it, his tongue making its way into my own. Spencer was an absolute god when it came to kissing, as his tongue made it's rounds around my mouth I mewled when it brushed the roof of it. I was so distracted by the kiss I hadn't noticed that he aligned with my entrance until he suddenly shoved into me. I didn't even know he put on the condom but I felt it, mostly him though. I gasped rolling my hips up nearly biting his tongue. He moaned panting "Fuck you're hot" He groaned "tight" he panted softly slowly beginning to thrust into me. I moaned loudly the suddenness of it making my head spin with pleasure "S-Spence!" I moaned as he pushed in and out of me at a slow and steady pace. I melted under him grabbing at his back, his shirt hadn't even come off yet. I wanted it off though. "Off. Sp-Spencer! Please take the shirt off." He moaned, absolute music to my ears, rocking against me taking off his shirt quickly "Such. A. Fucking. Brat" he hissed slamming into me with every word. I cried out eyes rolling back. The sounds of our moans and the slapping of skin filled the otherwise empty room. "Oh fuck!" I cried out running my hands down his chest admiring him lovingly. He may have been skinny but that didn't mean he wasn't built well. His hair fell and framed his face he looked like an actual god. "You're so fucking hot" he groaned and I arched my back with a high cry. "I-I'm- oh god- I'm cumming!" I covered my mouth. "Not. Yet." he groaned pulling out of me as I whined. "N-not fair!" I moaned "Sometimes brats need to be taught a lesson" He growled pulling me off the bed onto the floor. "Open your mouth" he said grabbing my face. I panted and opened my mouth wide. I gasped loudly as he pushed his cock into my mouth. I moaned loudly knowing what he wanted before I was even told. I bobbed my head quickly moaning at every movement and sound he made. "Baby~" he mewled as I ran my tongue up his shaft pulling off for a second to breathe before licking the tip. I pushed forward and started sucking on him again. He groaned in pleasure grabbing my hair. "Good girl. Learning not be a damn brat." He moaned teasingly, I wanted this for so long and the fact it was happening made my head spin, and my eyes roll back. After a long while he pushed me up and grabbed me shoving into me not even bothering to put me on the bed. I nearly collapsed my legs nearly giving out. So he picked me up shoving me against the wall. "Shit baby~ You're so good for me now." He gasped out "You can cum for me baby" he whispered in my ear kissing me again. I cried out loudly wiggling, against him. I bounced quickly against him, cumming and basically spilling out onto him moaning loudly. I pulled back throwing my head back as he continued to thrust into me way too hard. It drove me absolutely crazy. I moaned his name a few more times "I... I can't.. Oh god" I gasped feeling him fill me entirely with his cum. He collapsed back onto the bed with me still in his arms resting on his chest. "Damn..." he whispered against my neck. I only yawned in response, not able to speak. "I... I love you. Not just like." he whispered. "I know it's not the time, but I don't want this to be a one night stand. Or a friends with benefits thing. I want you. I want to be yours. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk tomorrow" He whispered earning a tired yawn from me. I gasped softly as he pulled out leaving me feeling empty. And to sleep we went. 

3rd person P.o.V

The next morning (Y/N) had woke up sore and alone. It was strange to them but they smiled as Spencer walked into the room. "Hi." he whispered handing them some pain medicine. "Did you sleep well?" He asked them petting their head and brushing the hair out of their eyes. "hi... I slept great" they mumbled taking it with a hum. "Good. Do you uh, need a shower?" he asked gently "and your clothes are in the dryer." he mumbled shyly. It was a funny thing, how dominate and rough he was, but now soft and shy as usual. It made them smile "I... I really care for you." he whispered "And I want you to be comfortable." He whispered. "I love you too Spencer." I giggled quietly "A shower would be lovely." they laughed a little. Spencer grinned happily "Best birthday present ever"

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #smut #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | Drabble 3

Okay so...this is set the day after the MC meets Hoseok’s parents and is from Hoseok’s POV! So...it’s 2.3k so a bit of a long drabble (especially given how short the chapters of Flower are) but I suppose you’ll enjoy it. Please reblog if you liked it and leave me comments about what you thought about another venture into our leading man’s head!

You get to find out a bit more about Hoseok, his mindset, his past and his relationship with his mom here :D

This isn’t proof read at all btw lol

-

Hoseok watches his mom carefully as she makes her way round the kitchen, the ingredients for her banana nutella pancakes laid out before her as she prepares to make him breakfast. It’s the day after he’d introduced you to them for the first time and you’re still upstairs, fast asleep in the double bed that had been his since he was sixteen.

Unsurprisingly, he’d gotten up long before you had. Over the course of your relationship so far, Hoseok had discovered that you could sleep forever if allowed whereas he quite liked to be up and about in the morning. Which was why he was up at only 8am on this fine Sunday morning.

Neither of you had intended to stay the night but by the time the movie you’d all been watching had finished, you’d been fast asleep against him and he’d been loath to make you wake up to travel all the way back to yours. So instead, with the permission of his parents, he’d taken you upstairs and carefully tucked you into bed before curling up beside you.

At the moment though, it was only him and his mom awake which was why she was indulging him with his childhood favourite. Licking at his lips, he takes a sip of the sweet, fresh apple juice and sighs softly to himself. There’s a lot of times he wishes he could go back and fix things with his parents when he’d been an ass to them.

He’d said a lot of things he hadn’t really meant, things that had been hurtful for the sole purpose of being hurtful because he was angry. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience raising him as a teenager and he was aware of that now, aware that he couldn’t change anything but it still made him feel guilty for what he’d put them through.

His parents had loved him despite whatever he’d thrown at them and he was just thankful now that they hadn’t thrown the towel in. That they’d persevered and given him chance after chance. It had taken him a while, but he’d finally opened up and taken that chance after years and now he was determined to not ruin things for them again.

They’d lost one child already, he didn’t want them to lose a second.

“Do you want me to cut them into Power Rangers?” She says suddenly and he realises he’s let his thoughts get away with him. Blinking rapidly, he processes what his mom says before laughing and shaking his head, remembering how she used to cut them for him back then. She’d gotten a special pancake...tin or whatever they were called to make him Power Ranger pancakes.

“I think I’m okay to just eat normal ones now mom. But thanks. Next time I feel like defeating Rita Repulsa, I’ll let you know.” It makes her laugh and he smiles at the sound, realising that you were completely right when you’d teasingly called him a mommy’s boy when you’d found out he called her every other day and talked for hours. You’d meant it in a positive way but it was true all the same.

There wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do to make his mom happy. Not when he’d spent so long making her sad.

“Well, I’m just checking. You’ve not asked for banatella pancakes in a long time.” She turns round and hands him a plate piled high with pancakes, more cut bananas carefully placed atop the pile of extra Nutella that he loved so much. Banatella had been what he’d nicknamed them when he’d been like...six or something.

Hoseok shrugged, placing the plate down in front of him and picking up his fork. A careful bite has his mouth filly with fluffy, perfectly made pancakes that fill his mouth with sweetness. Humming happily, he tucks in and eats contentedly while his mom cleans up. He wants to protest her making this without making herself anything but she brings a bowl of muesli with fresh strawberries to the table and sits opposite him.

“I wasn’t expecting you both to stay the night.” She says, beginning the conversation as she takes a sip of her coffee. It’s black, like she always has it, and he’s always amazed that she can drink it like that.

“We weren’t gonna, obviously. But she gets tired very easily and gets a teeny bit grumpy if I wake her up. Didn’t think it was worth it.” Shrugging, he eats another mouthful and looks down at his plate.

“I peeked in at you both this morning, I’ll be honest. It was cute though. She was almost sprawled over the top of you.” His mom laughs lightly, her smile bright as she remembers and Hoseok can’t help but laugh in response.

“Yeah...she does that. There’s like zero concept of how to sleep next to someone ‘cos she’s never had to before. I don’t really mind, doesn’t wake me up. Except that time she accidentally punched me in the face in her sleep. Didn’t mean to, but I woke up to a sore jaw and her hand right there.” He snorts at the memory, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he gets a phantom pain.

“I think I’ve done that to your dad a few times so I guess you might expect it a little more.” The conversation dies down a little after that and the two of them just eat, the silence comfortable. But Hoseok has a question burning within him that he’s a little surprised about, a need to check that his mom likes you. That she approves.

He doesn’t want to say it though because he feels a bit stupid acting like that. At almost twenty-nine years old, he doesn’t need his parents approval anymore. But he’s spent a large portion of his life being an asshole to them and never doing anything right. So he has a need to make sure that he’s doing this right.

“You like her, right?” Mentally, he facepalms as he realises that he’s asked the question in the most childish and attention seeking way possible. There was even a little hint of whining in his voice, which he doesn’t even understand because why the hell would be whining about this? Maybe it’s because it’s his mom or something.

She pauses in her eating, looking at him intently and he resists the urge to fidget under her stare. That was a mom stare for sure and he feels like he’s done something bad. Like whenever she caught him smoking weed in his bedroom in high school or that time he’d had to hide a girl in his closet. 

He’d been a wild teenager, he admits this.

“Yes. I like her. And so does your dad. She’s very sweet and kind. A little shy and a little awkward like you said, but...she’s nice. I’ll admit, she’s not what I expected when you announced that you had a girlfriend you’ve been dating for longer than three weeks,” He pulls a face at that. “But I’m glad of that actually. You had some...dubious choices back then.”

“I think you mean that I was chronically allergic to the concept of a relationship and therefore only ever ‘dated’ girls had the same opinion as me.” That was a nice and polite way to put it, he thinks to himself proudly. Better than saying ‘I liked to stick my dick in women who had no expectations of a future’. 

Thinking back, he really was an asshole for years.

“You mean that you slept with women, you didn’t date them?” His mom says dryly, a brow raised in amusement at him as he sputters at her bluntness. Literally, there’s bits of pancakes everywhere now and he’d be embarrassed about that if he wasn’t mortified over the fact his own mother had just openly pointed out that she was highly aware of his previous sex life.

“Mom!” He whines, rubbing at his mouth to make sure there’s no residue and cleaning his lip ring. “Yes. That. we don’t talk about that anymore. That was a different Hoseok. He had...low standards. For everything apparently.”

“Well, I’m glad that you raised them with Y/N. She’s honestly lovely and if you were acting like how you used to act, then I’d say you don’t deserve her. But you’ve changed a lot and it’s very clear that you love her and want to try hard. And she obviously loves you too.” Playing with a piece of banana, he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he considers her words.

He knows you love him. You haven’t told him yet, but he knows. The level of trust and faith you’ve put into him to not hurt you was a little humbling and only part of why he was trying so hard with you. Hoseok’s past was filled with many women, sure, but he honestly believed it was because he’d just never found anyone he’d clicked with and wanted to be in a relationship with.

“This is going to sound incredibly sappy and I kind of want to sink into the floor just thinking the words. But it’s like I met her by pure chance when I wasn’t looking and she’s everything I wanted. I have to work a little, be incredibly understanding and slow with her but...I’ve never found someone that I want to try so hard with before. Even that first date, when I was just going along to give it a try and realised this girl is nothing like any other girl I’ve been with before, I knew that I’d found something worth keeping. She’s just...she’s not perfect. And she’d be the first to tell you that. But it’s like...I’ve never been so fascinated with someone, her mind goes a million miles a minute and I can barely keep up but she comes out with the most random shit and I love it. I don’t know what it is about her but...I found her by accident and I never wanted to let go once I did. God that was really lame, wasn’t it?” He cringes.

His mom is smiling so happily though and he realises that her eyes are glassy, causing him to whine once more as he realises he’s made her cry. Which is ridiculous, why is she crying?

“Why are you crying!” Hoseok protests, a little outraged that his incredibly soft words had made her cry but more worried about the fact he’d made her cry. What had he said to cause this?

“It’s nothing sweetheart,” She says, her voice strained as she reaches forward and grasps his hand. “It’s just...hearing you talk about her. I don’t think you realise just how much you love her really. Your face lights up and you get this smile. I spent a long time thinking that I’d never get to see you this happy, that you’d never settle but you didn’t just find someone to love. Hobi, my baby boy, I know you’ll roll your eyes at me but I really do think you’ve found your soulmate.”

Okay, she’s right. He does want to roll his eyes at her when she says that but he doesn’t. Because he can see how happy she is and how emotional she is to hear that he’s finally found the happiness and stability that he’d obviously been searching for for so long. He’s not an idiot. He recalls his therapy very well and he’s pretty convinced that he never settled for anyone before because he didn’t believe that he should just settle for someone he liked.

His sister never got the chance, so he should make sure that he found the one. Oh god, he’s being just as sappy and romantic as his mom now. She’s putting these thoughts into his head, that has to be it, he thinks to himself. But he doesn’t say it because she looks happy, and that’s all he wants.

“I’m not gonna say that’s cheesy. Okay no, it was definitely cheesy mom. But...I’m not gonna say no either. And I would like it if we could both just forget this conversation ever happened please. I feel very embarrassed right now and I know it’s fine for men to talk about their feelings but there’s talking about their feelings and then there’s talking about their feelings to their mom. I just...as long as you like her.” And now he’s gone awkward, causing his mom to laugh as she picks up his empty plate and places her equally empty bowl on top.

“Hey, hey, I can clean it! You made it, I’ll clean it.” He says insistently, standing to take them from her. But she simply shakes her head and gestures to him.

“Nope. You should go back up and wake her up for breakfast too. It’s fine, I’ve got it. You want to forget the conversation happened? Go bring her down for breakfast. Otherwise she’s going to hear all about how her big, tattooed and pierced boyfriend melted into ice cream talking about her.” He recognises that tone in her voice, the teasing one that’s edged with more than a little sarcasm.

Hoseok recognises it because he does it himself and he locks his jaw at realising he’s been outmaneuvered by his own mother. Not surprising really. She did give birth to him and all. So he does what any dutiful son would do in this moment and backs down at the threat. Before leaving though, he pauses in the kitchen doorway and points to her, eyes narrowed.

“For the record, I’m only going because we’re going somewhere today and she needs to get up. It has nothing to do with me telling you things. If you think it’d embarrass me, you’re totally wrong. I don’t know what woman wouldn’t like to hear that her ‘big, tattooed and pierced boyfriend’ was getting all mushy over them. So ner.” And with that, he does that very adult and mature thing of sticking his tongue out at her before leaving.

His moms laughter is sweet music to his ears as he climbs back up the stairs and he smiles in response.

#ficswithluv #networkbangtan #armiesnet #btswriterscollective #hoseok fluff #hobi fluff #j hope fluff #bts fluff #hoseok drabble #j hope drabble #bts drabble #flower!hoseok #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader

[caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma]

Map of the Soul, Drabble #2

Drabble #2 - A Prom Dress Fit for a Princess

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 7K+

Warnings: NSFW 18+ cursing, sexual tension, groping, oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, suggestive language, protected consensual sex, 

“Why can’t we just have a normal theme for Prom?” you scoffed while looking at the garish poster in the hallway. “This theme is totally isolating people who are planning on going to Prom without dates.”

“Costumes aren’t just for couples, sweetheart,” a warm voice mutters behind you. “Must you make everything into an argument?”

You grinned at the playful tone in his voice, but you couldn’t shake the need to validate your argument. You refused to turn around because you knew that the moment you saw that heart-shaped smile, you’d lose any and all conviction in furthering your point.

“I’m just saying that not everyone is going to fit into this theme,” you continued. “What if someone wanted to go alone or in a group? What do those people do for costumes? The only depictions on this poster are couples. That’s very discouraging.”

“What is so discouraging about Romeo & Juliet?” the voice countered. “That’s classic literature and totally your thing.”

“A poor example, at best,” you snorted. “Unless you’re trying to go for a lame teenage romance gone completely wrong. They would not be my first choice in literary couples.”

“Oh yeah?” the voice challenged. “Name one better than Romeo & Juliet. I dare you.”

“The Little Prince and his Rose,” you argued. “Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy! Shrek and Fiona!”

Suddenly, you were whirled around and into the arms of a very handsome and very annoyed boy who was clearly not happy with your examples.

“There is no way I’m painting myself green,” the handsome boy growled. “There are limits to my love, sweetheart.”

“What are you talking about?” you snickered at him. “You were going to be Fiona. I was going to be Shrek. Haven’t you heard of genderbent costumes, Hobi?”

Jung Hoseok rolled his eyes at you as you burst into a fit of giggles imagining him in a green ensemble complete with red wig and golden tiara. Your giggles ceased abruptly as he tugged you into a nook in the hallway and pressed his lips onto yours. It was a simple kiss, but it was enough to shut you up. Before either of you got any ideas about flaunting your PDA in the middle of the high school, Hoseok pulled away and shook his head in mock exasperation.  You’d been dating for nearly a year and you still knew exactly what to do and say to get him riled up and pouting.  

“You’re always teasing me, sweetheart,” Hoseok whined cutely. “One of these days, I’m going to have to punish you for being so mean to me.”

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” you cooed. “It’s just so much fun to see your feathers all ruffled.”

“No feathers and no sequins,” Hoseok commanded. “Like I said before, I have limits.”

“Fine, then we won’t be Shrek and Fiona,” you relented. “I’m sure we can figure out an amazing costume for Prom. But seriously, honey, the Prom committee should try to make some posters that are more inclusive. Maybe like group or solo costumes?”

“Ok, ok,” Hoseok exclaimed. “I will talk to our marketing person and see if they can make some extra posters. I can’t have the Prom Committee Chair’s girlfriend starting a ruckus over inclusivity.”

“Thank you, my love,” you replied while planting a kiss on his flushed cheek. “Now, let’s get to class. We’re starting a new project in Theatre today.”

Hand in hand, the two of you rushed off to your next class with thoughts of Prom floating around your head. -------------------------------

“This is going to be an amazing project, baby!” Hoseok cheered. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Well, yeah,” you sighed. “But there are just so many options, it’s difficult to choose just one.” 

Your Theatre teacher’s words echoed in your mind and you scrolled through the search results on your phone.

Your next project is to create a Fairy Tale Performance. Choose a fairytale, create your own costumes, props, and design a set. You will be performing for the elementary students in about three weeks and you will be graded on your theatrical choices and how the audience reacts to your performance.

“What about Hansel and Gretel?” you suggested. “I think you’d look cute in lederhosen and I can totally pull off wooden clogs and braids.”

“Ewww, pass,” Hoseok winced. “That would require a lot of set design and we’d have to find a witch. I want something that is just for the two of us.”

“Ok, then what about Rapunzel?” you offered. “It might be fun to make a massive braided wig and drape it all over the stage.”

“What is it with you and braids?” Hoseok chuckled. “No, I think we can do better.”

“Well, then you pick something, Hobi,” you huffed. “I’ve already suggested over a dozen different fairy tales. What exactly are you looking for?”

“Something unique,” he smiled. “Something just for us.”

Hand in hand, you were both deep in thought as you arrived at the community theatre to visit Hoseok’s mother. She was the head seamstress in the costume department, and Hoseok started interning as her assistant the summer before his senior year. Throughout his tenure at the theatre, Hoseok gained invaluable knowledge and skills about sewing, costuming, and all things theatre.

“Hello, Mama,” Hoseok chirped as he popped his head into the costume shop. “What are you working on today?”

Hoseok’s mother smiled softly while running layers of fabric through her sewing machine. Yards and yards of colorful silks and satin were draped across her mannequins and you marveled at the scene before you.

“Hello, my son,” Mrs. Jung replied after lifting her needle and cutting away the excess from the garment she was working on. “I’m prepping costumes for the next musical production that is set to start in about a month. It’s going to be a large cast, so I need to have some starter costumes ready for fittings. What about you two? To what do I owe this honor?

“We have a project for our Theatre class,” Hoseok explained. “I was hoping I could convince my wonderful mother to help me make some costumes.”

Mrs. Jung chuckled slightly and walked over to an empty mannequin to drape the newly sewn garment. She began pinning more pieces to the costume and she motioned in your direction to get more pins, which you quickly brought to her.

“Thank you, dear,” she said while pinching your cheek playfully. “It’s so lovely having someone around who helps me instead of demanding more work in my already busy schedule.”

“Mama,” Hoseok whined cutely. “You know I would do this on my own if I could-”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Mrs. Jung cheered. “I’m so glad that you’ve finally realized your potential, son. Use whatever you need in the shop, but please try to stay out of my way. Mama has a big production coming up and these costumes are excessively complicated to create. I’m so proud of you, Hoseokie.”

With a pat on his chin, Mrs. Jung was able to help Hoseok close his dropped jaw and she tossed a wink your way as she walked into her supply closet. Hoseok dropped his head in defeat and pouted as he walked toward you.

“I guess we’re on our own, baby,” Hoseok grumbled. “I thought for sure she’d help me out with some ideas.”

“Hobi, didn’t you hear her?” you admonished softly. “She knows you can do this on your own, and besides, she’s hella busy right now. I think we can do this, yeah?”

Hoseok sighed and sank into a seat at the spare drafting table in the costume shop. All throughout the summer, this station was his little creative corner. The two of you had even written your names on the wall by his station, complete with hearts and flowers. You glanced at the empty table and decided to help your grumpy honey along with his creative process. 

You grabbed a sketch pad and several pencils from a nearby shelf and placed them on the table in front of him. When he refused to budge, you took up a pencil and started sketching out stick figures with your amateur drawing skills. Under each figure, you wrote the words “Prince” and “Princess” and looked up at him with your imploring eyes.

“Ok, Hobi, here’s the deal,” you began. “I will be your assistant seamstress if you can design us some costumes fit for royalty. If we’re going to put so much effort into this project, we might as well get more use out of these costumes. Let’s make them so nice that we can wear them to Prom. This will be our couple’s costume!”

“I thought you were against the couple's costumes,” Hoseok challenged. “Weren’t you just giving me grief about this at school, my love?”

“I was challenging the committee’s lack of inclusion, not the couple’s costumes,” you corrected. “Besides, we’re a couple. We should go as a matching pair. Just us.”

Hoseok sighed and pulled you into his arms with a whiny groan. You could actually feel him smiling into the crook of your neck, so you allowed him a little time to get all the exaggerated dismay out of his system. After planting a kiss on your forehead, Hoseok finally relented and grabbed the pencil out of your hand.

“Ok, fine,” he grumbled playfully. “I’ll design us some fairytale/Prom outfits, but I need something to go off of. Break out those books you got from the library and let’s pick our royal pair.”

Mrs. Jung wandered out as you were perusing the books next to the workstation and when she looked over Hoseok’s shoulder to see him sketching out foundational design concepts, she hummed thoughtfully.

Hoseok stopped drawing and tapped his pencil on the table, signaling his slight annoyance at his mother’s hovering.

“Yes, Mama?” Hoseok asked sweetly. “Did you want to say something?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Mrs. Jung assured him. “I was just looking at your sketches. What is your project exactly?”

“We have to perform a fairytale for the elementary students,” you explained. “But we also want to use the costumes for Prom, so I’m trying to find a prince and princess pair for us in one of these books.”

“I see,” Mrs. Jung responded. “Did you find a Korean fairytale then?”

“Not yet,” you replied. “I’m still looking.”

“Really?” Mrs. Jung replied with a tilt of her head. “Then why is Hoseokie drawing a hanbok?”

You stepped over to look at Hoseok’s drawing, and sure enough, there was a figure wearing a stylish hanbok on the page. Hoseok tilted his head in confusion at his drawing and shrugged with a giggle.

“Just drawing what I know, I guess,” Hoseok grinned. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Hobi,” you smiled. “That actually looks beautiful. Do you want me to find a Korean fairytale then?”

“Oh, you won’t find many Korean fairytales about princes or princesses, my dear,” Mrs. Jung explained. “Our culture doesn’t have a Cinderella or a Snow White. It’s a shame, really. You would look radiant in a hwarot, sweetheart, and my Hoseokie would look so dashing in a classic hanbok.”

“Well, maybe they don’t have to be a part of the story,” you suggested. “Maybe Hoseok and I can just dress up as Korean royalty and recite a Korean fairytale like that?”

“Hey, that’s a great idea,” Hoseok beamed. “I could make our costumes look amazing and we can just act like royal storytellers.”

“And then we can wear the costumes to Prom!” you gushed. “Oh, Hobi, it’s perfect.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Hoseok called out as Mrs. Jung made her way back to the sewing machine.

“For what?” Mrs. Jung smirked. “I didn’t do anything.” ------------------

After a few days of sketching, Hoseok finally had two amazing designs prepared for your costumes. His traditional hanbok had a few modern embellishments and he was planning all sorts of accessories to accent the outfit completely. Additionally, Hoseok scoured Korean history books for images and designs for a proper hwarot that only a Korean princess could wear. Side by side, the outfits were going to look phenomenal, and you were so excited to start making them.

Hoseok already had his own measurements, and you were eager for him to take your measurements so he could start pulling fabric for your gown. Mrs. Jung set aside several bolts of colorful fabric that Hoseok noticed were reflecting the colors of the Korean flag. Bold royal blue silk and vibrant red brocade joined piles of black satin, gold ribbons, and delicate strands of beads surrounding Hoseok’s workstation.

You arrived at the theatre after your marching band rehearsal, and you hoped that Hoseok didn’t mind that you were dressed in shorts and a baggy T-shirt. Once you entered the costume shop, your worries were allayed when Hoseok handed you a simple muslin tunic to put on.

“You’re going to have to wear this under the hwarot,” Hoseok explained. “I’ll be able to get better measurements this way. Don’t worry if it’s loose. The other garments will layer over it.”

You slipped away to the dressing room to change and when you returned, Hoseok was nowhere to be found. You wandered around backstage and eventually came across the empty stage with the ghost light shining brightly across the theatre. Light classical music could be heard from the backstage area, and you couldn’t help swaying and spinning in time with the music.

As you made your way across the stage, you imagined you were performing for a packed audience and your movements increased dramatically. You fictionalized a ballet where you were seeking out your lost love, and you focused on the ghost light stand as your absent prince. You ended your impromptu performance by embracing the ghost light and were startled by sudden applause emanating from the wings.

“Bravo, princess,” Hoseok called out. “Magnificent!”

You swiped at your burning cheeks and pranced into the wings to bury your face into his shoulder. As embarrassed as you were, Hoseok knew better than to tease you for too long. You pulled back and pouted at his brilliant smile, which prompted him to assault your face with a dozen kisses. You giggled at first, but the lighthearted feeling in your chest shifted into something steamier as Hoseok nipped at the sensitive spot on your neck. You pulled him back behind the curtain and proceeded to devour his lips hungrily.

You half expected Hoseok to put a stop to your lustful advances, but there was something different about Hoseok now. His hands were not resting tentatively on your hips, but were grasping at your skin and sliding back against your ass. His hips refused to keep their distance, instead choosing to grind against your stomach, revealing a hearty erection. His voice lacked any of the whiny nature you usually heard, but instead housed a deep growl which sent shivers down your spine.

“Hobi,” you whispered. “What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s this slip you have on, princess,” Hoseok explained while nibbling on your ear. “It’s practically sheer under those lights. You have no idea how incredible you looked dancing around like that.”

“Oh yeah?” you gasped as he reached up to fondle your breast. “Did you like what you saw?”

“You have no idea,” Hoseok groaned. “It was so hot. I just want to keep touching you. Maybe unwrap you like a birthday present?”

You moaned lightly at his suggestion and reached between you to grip the stiffness pressing against your stomach. Hoseok’s hips shot forward and he stilled completely in your arms.

Before he could refuse, you reached in and took a hold of his hardened length and began stroking it slowly. Hoseok braced his arms against the wall and huffed out a groan at your ministrations. Sensing that this needed to be something quick, you dropped to your knees and wrapped your lips around the strained head of his penis. Hoseok’s moan was muffled as he buried his face into arm, and he restrained his hips from thrusting forward as you brought him to his climax effortlessly.

Hoseok still marveled at your insistence of swallowing while going down on him, but he respected your decision. Who was he to argue if your main concern was cleaning up an unnecessary mess? Hoseok helped you back to your feet and sought out your lips, not even caring that he could taste his own cum in your mouth. As hot and heavy as things were getting, one of you needed to get a grip on the situation before you got busted.

“Shit,” Hoseok breathed out while leaning his forehead against your own. “We can’t do this, princess.”

“I know, Hobi,” you sighed out airily. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be fooling around in the theatre. Your mom would kill us.”

“I mean, yeah, you’re right, she would,” Hoseok chuckled. “But I meant that I’m still not ready to go any further.”

“Hobi,” you replied with worry. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you into anything, my love. I told you I would wait and I meant it.”

“I know,” Hoseok grumbled. “But a few more minutes of this and I won’t be able to control myself, so we need to stop.”

"Oh, yeah?" you smirked. "What happened to all that self control of yours? Did you lose it somewhere?"

"Yeah," Hoseok sighed while gripping your hips. "It went out the window when I saw you in this slip, princess."

You pressed one last kiss to Hoseok’s lips and you straightened out your clothing before heading back to the costume shop. You both stopped at the bathroom to freshen up and then strolled back to the costume shop hand in hand.

The rest of the afternoon was ripe with sexual tension, and every time Hoseok’s fingers danced across your skin as he took your measurements, you fought the urge to shiver or whine or make any kind of sound that would sound sensual in any way. Hoseok was also struggling while on his knees in front you, inhaling the faint smell of your arousal through the thin muslin.

After that sexually charged work session, you and Hoseok agreed to go out for dinner, but first, you both ended up in the backseat of your car with your legs over his shoulders and his tongue buried in your dripping cunt. Several orgasms later, you were both satiated and decided to end the night with a quick bite to eat at your favorite drive-in restaurant. While you were stealing some of his curly fries, you noticed a pensive look on Hoseok’s face.

“What’s the matter, Hobi?” you asked. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok stated unconvincingly. “It’s fine.”

“Hobi,” you sighed. “What is it? You can tell me.”

Hoseok's shoulders sagged as he put his half-eaten burger on the dashboard and turned toward you in his seat. You followed his lead and did the same, apprehension clouding your mind as you took in the furrowed brows on your boyfriend’s face.

“Are you happy with me, princess?” Hoseok murmured quietly. “Are you sure that I’m enough for you?”

“What are you talking about, Hobi?” you blurted out. “Of course, I’m happy with you! I love you so much, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I know you love me,” Hoseok pouted. “And I love you too, but sometimes, I feel like maybe you wish I could give you more. I know we’ve already talked about this a lot, but it still bothers me when I pull away from you like I did earlier.”

“Baby,” you cooed. “Have I ever given you any indication that I’m not totally satisfied in our relationship?”

“No,” Hoseok admitted. “But I know you’re used to more than what I’m giving you. I know you and Taehyung were very active, and I feel like I could never measure up to him. I mean, you guys call each other soulmates. How am I not supposed to wonder whether he could give you more than I can?”

You leaned forward and cupped Hoseok’s face with your hands. The distress on his face was unbearable and you resisted the urge to plant a million kisses on his face so that you could assuage his grief.

“Soulmate or not, Taehyung is not you,” you reminded him. “I love you, Jung Hoseok, and it doesn’t matter that you’re a virgin and I’m not. You are all I need, and you have nothing to prove to me or anyone else. Just be you, Hobi. That is more than enough for me.”

Hoseok took a deep breath and nodded as best he could with his face squished between your palms. You smiled at the glimmer of hope in his eyes and you prayed that he believed the truth of your words. You leaned in to press a kiss onto his lips and when you pulled away, his face broke into a vibrant smile. The glassy look in his eyes confirmed that he was on the verge of tears and you hated that he was torturing himself unnecessarily. You grabbed a napkin and tried to dab at the corners of his eyes, but he wrapped his slender fingers around your wrist

“I’m ok, princess,” Hoseok assured you. “I’m just so happy that you feel that way. I know I get a little insecure about our physical relationship, but you never fail to make me feel so loved and wanted. Thank you for that.”

With a kiss to your wrist, Hoseok released the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders in a long exhale. He took the napkin from your hand and dabbed at his misty eyes comically to drain his lashes of the tears he’d been holding back. You couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt at comedy in the midst of your serious discussion, but that was your Hoseok.

Such an amazing person. How did I get so lucky? ------------------

“Can you hand me that black ribbon, princess?” Hoseok called out from behind the mannequin. “The velvet one, not the satin one.”

You grabbed the three black ribbons that looked like velvet and offered them to Hoseok, who was kneeling and pinning ribbons to the back of his hanbok. He looked up at you and grinned at the options you displayed in your hands. After grabbing one of the spools, he shook his head and started pinning more ribbon to the flowing fabric.

“Do we need to review fabrics again, princess?” Hoseok joked. “Didn’t we cover this over the summer?”

“Hobi,” you groaned. “A lot of these ribbons look the same. How am I supposed to keep them all straight? That’s your job.”

He simply chuckled and snipped the ribbon on the spool before pinning the last bit of ribbon on the edge of the hanbok’s hem. As he stood, he examined the other bits of fabric and ribbon pinned to his creation and hummed in satisfaction. He emerged from behind the mannequin and set down his sewing supplies on the workstation. After pulling you into a back hug, he leaned his head on your shoulder and sighed happily.

“So, what do you think, princess?” he questioned playfully. “Do you like it? Is this what you imagined your prince wearing?”

You dragged your gaze across the bold colors, the clever embellishments, and the hint of modern flair that Hoseok managed to imbue into his creation and you were astonished. You knew he was skilled, but this latest creation was beyond anything you’d expected. His hanbok was worthy of being displayed in a museum; such intricacy, such craftsmanship, such finery.

“It’s perfect, Hobi,” you exhaled. “You truly are a master at this.”

“I’d say so,” piped up a voice from the corner of the room.

You and Hoseok turned to look over at Mrs. Jung who was hanging up another one of her prepped costumes on a hanger. It was magnificent and you were dazzled by the brilliant green and yellow accents she’d applied to the blue skirting. She brushed away a few wrinkles and stepped forward to look at her son’s garment.

“The line work is very good, Hoseokie,” she complimented. “I like how you took the original design and made it your own. A lot of heart went into this, I can tell. Well done, my son.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok beamed. “I can’t take all the credit though. I had an amazing teacher.”

Mother and son smiled brilliantly at each other before stepping forward for a tight hug. Mrs. Jung pulled a handkerchief from her apron and gently dabbed at her eyes. Hoseok cleared his throat awkwardly and sniffled slightly before lifting his mother’s free hand into his own. Their eyes met and glowed with affection and unbridled respect.

“Eomma,” Hoseok addressed his mother kindly. “Thank you for teaching me everything. I only hope that I can reproduce a fraction of your passion and talent. You inspire me to do great things, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all of the time we spend in this shop together.”

“Jung Hoseok,” his mother smiled. “It is not your talent which brings me pride. It is the dedication to your work which makes me happy. You’re an artist, son. I only sought to nurture the skills you already possessed naturally.”

Hoseok kissed her hand and she ruffled his hair before going back across the room and into the storage closet. You grabbed another tissue and dabbed at the tears which manifested while watching the tender moment between mother and son. Hoseok smiled softly at your emotional reaction and pulled you into his arms to soothe your tears.

“There, there, princess,” he said sweetly. “You don’t have to cry on my account.”

“I’m not,” you pouted. “That was just incredibly moving. You and your mom are #LifeGoals. I don’t have that kind of relationship with my mom.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok agreed. “But you do get all mushy and sweet with your dad. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“I guess you’re right,” you relented. “I don’t know how you’re going to be able to finish my outfit. This one took you quite some time to complete and it isn’t even sewn together yet. Are you sure we didn’t take on too much, Hobi?”

“Not to worry, princess,” Hobi grinned. “Your hwarot was done yesterday.”

Hoseok stepped around you and pulled a sheet off of the mannequin behind you. You gasped at the glory he revealed and reached out a trembling hand to run your fingers across the royal blue satin of the bodice.

“Oh, Hobi,” you whispered. “It’s breathtaking.”

You explored the various folds of blue fabric, the silver brocade accents, the black ribbons sewn into the bodice creating a fitted curvature that stepped away from traditional and spoke of a modern interpretation of the original design. The hwarot he’d sketched originally was an exact replica of the designs in the history books, but this new iteration was unique and fresh while still maintaining the original structure of the gown.

“How did you come up with this design, Hobi?” you cooed. “It’s amazing.”

“Well, I started out with the original design,” Hoseok explained. “But honestly, I just kept thinking about you in that slip dancing around the stage. I couldn’t get your curves out of my head, so I decided to highlight them a little with those lines on the bodice. You were my inspiration, princess.”

You blushed under his praise and stepped behind the hwarot to look at the intricate lacing on the back of the bodice. The collar of the hwarot remained intact, but there was a large section under the collar that was left open. The bodice started lacing just above where your bra line started and continued down to the hip line before billowing out thanks to the petticoat underneath.

“This is the most incredible costume I’ve ever seen, Hobi,” you gushed. “I can’t get over how gorgeous it is.”

Hoseok reached over and took your hands into his own before kissing the tops of both. You smiled as brought you closer to him, pulling your hands to his chest.

“A gorgeous gown for my gorgeous princess,” Hoseok grinned. “The only thing more beautiful than this gown is you, my love. I can’t wait to see you in it.”

With a final kiss to your forehead, Hoseok stepped back to his hanbok and began pulling it off the mannequin so he could start sewing everything together. You changed into your muslin slip and Mrs. Jung took a few moments to help you into the completed hwarot, much to Hoseok’s pleasure. The compliments and praise showered upon you and Hoseok brought unimaginable joy to Mrs. Jung and she quickly excused herself once again to dab away the tears from her face.

After both outfits were sewn together and a final fitting took place, you and Hoseok gathered your things and gave Mrs. Jung a heartfelt goodbye. Your presentation was less than a week away and Prom was happening immediately after that. It was time to get ready to premiere Hoseok’s greatest creation. --------------------

“You guys were amazing today,” Hyejin gushed. “The kids loved your presentation. My little brother was talking to all of his friends about it.”

“Thanks,” you cheered while carefully arranging your hwarot into its garment bag. “It was so much fun. Hobi is such a ham. He was a hit as the goofy prince.”

“And you were the envy of every girl in our class,” Hyejin sighed. “That dress is absolutely gorgeous. I still can’t believe that he sewed your outfits himself. The man is crazy talented.”

“Tell me about it,” you giggled. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” came a voice from the hallway. “Are you talking about me, princess?”

Hoseok appeared with his garment bag and another tote full of accessories. As you finished packing up your gown, he collected the various props you’d placed on the desk.

“I was talking about you, my prince,” you cooed. “You were incredible today.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he beamed while bowing with a red plush dragon in his hand. “If I was incredible, then you were superb, princess. The kids loved you and I can confidently say that we aced that presentation.”

“Well, I’ve gotta head to practice,” Hyejin announced while gathering her things. “I’ll see you guys at Prom tomorrow.”

You both said your goodbyes to Hyejin as she skipped out the door and you zipped up your garment bag after folding the last yard of fabric inside and securing the hanger. Hoseok placed the last bauble into his tote and zipped it up as well. He looked over at you and opened his arms comically.

“Come here, princess,” he demanded. “Give your prince a hug.”

You leaned into his embrace and the two of you just held each other for a few moments, allowing the excitement of the afternoon to dwindle into a pleasant buzz. You leaned your head back to look into Hoseok’s face and the two of you smiled as your eyes met.

“I’m so proud of you, Hobi,” you said. “You never cease to amaze me. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

“I’m the lucky one, princess,” Hoseok corrected while tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “I get to have this incredible, beautiful, sexy girl in my life. You make me feel so loved. I just wish you could understand how much you mean to me.”

You shook your head at his sentiment and kissed his lips. As you pulled away, he continued to look at you like the answers to the universe were in your eyes.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you giggled and booped him on the nose before turning to gather your things. You turned to see Hoseok staring at you fondly with hooded lids and a devious smirk.

"What, Hobi?" you pried. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason," Hoseok shrugged. "Just thinking about how beautiful my princess looked in that gown. I can't wait to see you in it tomorrow at Prom."

"Well," you teased while pinching his cheek playfully. "I will make sure that I am very careful when I get dressed tomorrow. I want to look extra special for my prince."

Hoseok waited until you were almost to the door before he reached over to grab his bags.

"You be careful putting it on," he murmured quietly, just out of earshot. "I'll be careful taking it off."

You missed the mischievous smirk on Hoseok's face because as soon as you turned around, it was replaced by a glowing smile.

"Let's go, princess," Hoseok chirped. "I have a lot to do before tomorrow and so do you."

Hoseok placed another lingering kiss on your lips and headed down the hallway next to you.

It's time. ------------------

The lights were flashing and the music was pulsating throughout the ballroom. After posing for your Prom portraits and making the rounds to all your friends, you and Hoseok were seated with a random assortment of refreshments.

"Isn't it wonderful, Hobi?" you gushed. "You and the committee did an amazing job. Everyone looks so good in their outfits!"

"Not as good as you look, princess," Hoseok commented. "Not one person holds a candle to you tonight."

'It's all because of you Hobi," you exclaimed. "You created a masterpiece when you made these outfits."

"Only because you were my Muse," Hoseok purred. "Care to dance, princess? Let's show off my inspiration to everyone."

You nodded enthusiastically and took his hand as he escorted you to the dance floor. The music transitioned into a thumping R&B tune and Hoseok pulled your arms around his neck as he swiveled and gyrated his hips to the sultry beat. You hummed with satisfaction as his thigh pressed in between your legs, mere inches from your center.

You were both sweaty with exertion and when the R&B groove gave way to a slow melodic love song, you both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Whew," you breathed out. “That was fun, but I need a minute to catch my breath.”

“Already, princess?” Hoseok teased. “I thought you’d have more stamina than that.”

You pouted and smacked his arm playfully and his giggles filled your ears deliciously. With the multicolored lights bouncing across the dance floor and the light dusting of imitation fog, you twirled around the dance floor with your handsome prince. He spun you around once again and you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling at his sparkling eyes and buoyant smile. When the song switched to another slow song, you sighed happily and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Once more around the ballroom, princess?” Hoseok asked sweetly. “Or are you done making everyone else jealous with your unparalleled beauty?”

You nodded against his shoulder and he waltzed the two of you into a shadowy corner of the dance floor. You were in the midst of soaking up this romantic moment when Hoseok’s hands began to wander into the silken folds of your gown and your breath hitched when his fingers found your center.

“Hobi,” you squeaked. “What are you doing?”

“You look incredible in that gown, princess,” he breathed out huskily. “I can only imagine how you’d look without it on.”

Your eyes widened significantly and you pulled back to look at Hoseok’s face. Full blown lust was darkening his gaze and the dimples around his lips deepened as he grinned. You’d seen your boyfriend aroused before, but this was something else entirely.

“Hobi,” you exhaled shakily. “What’s gotten into you?”

His smile softened and he leaned in to kiss your lips gently, raising a hand behind your neck to hold you in place as you shared the sweetest collection of kisses he had to offer.

“Princess,” he murmured against your lips. “This past year with you has been one of the happiest of my life. I can’t even remember what my life was like before you were in it.”

“Oh, Hobi,” you shivered. “You make me happy too. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too” Hoseok whispered into your ear. “In fact, I love you so much that I might have built up this impossible image in my mind that you are untouchable and precious. So precious that you will break if I push you too hard.”

“I’m not a delicate little flower, Hobi,” you grumbled. “And you haven’t been pushing me at all. If anything, I feel like I’m the one pushing you sometimes.”

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok snapped. “You’ve been nothing but patient and understanding, and I am so grateful that you allowed me to come to terms with my virginity on my own.”

“Hobi,” you whined. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin. I already told you that. We don’t have to do anything just because I have before. I just want to be with you. That’s all I need.”

“I know,” Hoseok sighed. “And it only makes me love you more.”

Hoseok punctuated his statement with another kiss to your lips, lingering on your bottom lip and nibbling on it hungrily. You were thankful for the lack of lighting in this corner and the excess fog collected around you. You didn’t want to get kicked out of Prom for making out with your boyfriend on the dance floor.

“I know this is going to sound totally cliché,” Hoseok murmured against your lips. “But I really want to make this prom night memorable. I think I’m ready to make love to you, princess. Will you let me show you just how much I love you?”

You shivered with excitement and took a moment to fully appreciate the look on his face, your thighs clenching at the unbidden desire pulsing in his dilated pupils, and you bit your lip with anticipation.

“Yes, Hobi,” you smiled demurely. “I’m ready.”

Before the music could stop playing, you wandered back to your table to gather your things. After a quick stop at the bathroom, you walked back into the parking lot toward Hoseok’s vehicle. Your options were limited since you were both still high school students living at home, so Hoseok made a split second decision and drove toward the coast. --------------------------

“Hand me that other blanket, princess,” Hoseok instructed. “Go ahead and take off your shoes. You can leave them in the front seat.”

As Hoseok laid yet another blanket in the back, you thanked the gods for his SUV and the seats that folded down to a nice level plane. After layering a few fluffy blankets from your last camping trip, there was a nice layer of comfort for you both to lay on. Once you discarded your shoes and accessories, Hoseok was careful to undress and hang his outer layers across the back windows. He helped you do the same and stretched your gown across the front seats so that you were tented in with the vibrant colors of the Korean flag.

Hoseok’s undershirt and boxers were clinging to his body with perspiration, and he couldn’t keep his eyes from roving across your own body covered with that simple muslin slip. With practiced precision, he reached down and ran his fingers from your exposed ankle all the way up to the slit across your thigh.

“I’ve been waiting to touch you in this slip since that day I caught you dancing in the theatre,” Hoseok admitted. “You were so intoxicating in that spotlight, your curves clearly visible under this thin material for my eyes only. I think I fell for you all over again that day.”

You shuffled closer and placed your hand on his cheek, shivering when his palm slid further up your thigh to your hip.

“I fall for you every day, Hobi,” you replied. “I feel so precious and desirable when I’m with you.”

“You should always feel like that,” Hoseok insisted. “Because that’s what you are, princess. Precious and the only thing that I truly desire.”

As soon as those words left Hoseok’s lips, he pulled you closer so he could devour your lips, his hand tangling into your hair while the other pushed your slip up further. In between heated kisses, you both began discarding your remaining articles of clothing until you were both left completely bare, grinding against each other in search of friction.

“Wait, princess,” Hoseok gasped as your hand wrapped around his stiff length. “Let me get the condoms.”

Hoseok reached between the seats and pulled out a 12-pack of condoms from his tote. Your eyes widened at the extra large pack, and you gawked at the open box that was clearly only half full.

“Umm, Hobi,” you queried. “What happened to all the other condoms in that box?”

“Oh,” Hoseok grumbled. “I wanted to get some practice putting one on and it took a few tries to get it right.”

You giggled at his embarrassment and kissed his flushed cheeks. Once the passion reignited, you were both fumbling with the foil square, trying to get it open and onto his swollen dick.

“Hold on, princess,” Hoseok groaned. “I want to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Hoseok shifted further down and latched onto your hardened nipple while dipping his slender fingers into your flooded depths. After stroking your clit and inserting not one, not two, but three fingers into you, Hoseok shuffled his body in between your legs and then paused. His heavy breathing was either a product of his passion or his lingering anxiety. You were about to reassure him that there was no need to rush, but he started rubbing the tip of his penis along your folds and you lost all sense of reason.

“Fuck, Hobi,” you moaned. “That feels so good. Don’t stop.”

“I have no intention of stopping,” Hoseok groaned. “In fact, I think I want more, princess.”

Hoseok shifted his hips forward and slipped into your hot center, earning him an even louder moan from you. You arched your back and encouraged him to thrust even deeper into you, which proved to be his breaking point.

“Shit,” Hoseok growled. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt. How the fuck did I go so long without doing this with you, princess?”

He pulled back and slammed forward with more force and the high pitched “Hobi” you released made him grin.

“That’s right, princess,” Hoseok encouraged. “Let it all out. Tell the world who’s making you feel this good. Tell them who you belong to.”

Once the initial shock wore off, Hoseok found that his body and yours were a perfect fit. The more he gave, the more you took, the two of you fitting together like puzzle pieces, his hips continuously snapping into you, his hands gripping your ass and shoulder for leverage, your nails digging into his back with delicious licks of pain, your legs wrapped around his waist, your voice begging for more.

He was so enthralled with you, and he completely ignored any indicators that his body was heading toward any type of climax. Usually, he’d blow his load after you’d blown him for a few minutes or after you’d given him a short hand job. But now, he unearthed a mountain of stamina and only your cries of pleasure captured his attention. There was no way you were ending this night until he’d given you several orgasms. His own pleasure was shelved to serve you and nothing else mattered.

Once you were both sated, you cuddled against his sweaty chest trying to catch your breath after so much exertion. Hoseok trailed his fingers up and down your back and continued to kiss every inch he could reach. You never felt so revered or loved before.

“This really was the perfect evening,” you commented. “I wish it could last forever.”

“Forever?” Hoseok inquired. “Is that what my princess wants? Then that’s what I’ll give her.”

You hummed your assent and lifted your head to kiss him again. The hazy look in his eyes was a testament to his love and you thanked the gods for blessing you with such an amazing man in your life. The night was indeed memorable and you were somewhat disappointed when you had to put your clothes back on so he could take you home.

“Come on, princess,” Hoseok coaxed. “Our parents will kill us if we stay out all night. We’re already going to be late as it is.”

“I know,” you grumbled while pulling on your underwear. “I just feel like I won’t get many more of these nights with you. You’re graduating in a few months and then you’re leaving me to go to college.”

“Don’t say it like that, princess.” Hoseok admonished. “You only have one more year left and then you’ll be doing the same. There is a lot of time between now and when I have to leave. We’ll figure something out.”

“You promise?” you pouted.

“I promise,” Hoseok chuckled as he kissed your pouty lips. “Now, let’s get you home.”

You drove off away from the coast with the windows down, trying to air out the smell of sweat and sex from his vehicle. Once you pulled back into town, you raised the windows so you could fix your hair. If anyone saw you walking in with “sex hair,” you’d never hear the end of it. You took another glance at Hoseok, eyeing the flush of color dusting across his face after your sexual escapade, and you smiled.

Such a handsome prince. I hope nothing ever pulls us apart. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle that.

You pulled his hand into your own and looked out at the flashing landscape. Prom night may have been cliché, but no one could convince you that it hadn’t been perfect.

Author’s Note: Just a little drabble for the biggest ball of sunshine in the world! Thank you to my lovely soulmate @xxxille-girlxxx for helping me beta read this. Enjoy a little slice of hope with me ^-^

MAP OF THE SOUL MASTERLIST

@caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma‘s MASTERLIST

#Map of the soul #bts drabble #Jung HoSeok #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts au fic #BTS au #bts angst #prom #hobi smut

[mollymauk-teafleak]

be as you’ve always been

Alternate Title: everyone’s nb bitch, let’s get you some gender affirming underwear

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This is based on a request by the lovely @minky-for-short and some truly beautiful art of Caduceus which you can see and bask in here. Huge thanks to @tendermosses for letting me base a ficlet on their work and for always doing such amazing art for fjord and caduceus! 

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Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 or reblogging to let me know what you think!

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Caduceus had known, since moving out of the grove and into the city, that his life went at a very different pace to most people’s. He didn’t know if it was because he was a firbolg, because he talked more to trees with lifespans of centuries than to people or because of brain chemistry reasons. But why's had never particularly concerned Caduceus, he tried to take people as they were, as long as they did the same for him.

And these people made decisions almost without thinking, they moved from one task to the next without pause, one word could send them careening onto a completely new train of thought while Caduceus was stuck on one three stations back.

And some did it so quickly, so without any kind of traceable logic, that all Caduceus could do was cling on as tight as he could and follow along in complete ignorance to see where he ended up.

But then he spoke to some of his friends and realised, to his mild relief, that no. That was just what Mollymauk and Jester were like.

He also realised that sometimes it led to very good things.

Molly and Jester were two of his closest friends and two of his most regular customers, given that the theatre where Mollymauk worked was just down the block and that Jester had an addiction to sweet things. They were usually there, talking together or with their partners, and Caduceus had grown to love the sound of their voices mixing pleasantly with the noise of the cafe.

That evening, a half hour shy of closing, they had both been sitting on the tall chairs against the counter, Jester’s short legs swinging happily halfway up, Molly’s lanky ones folded underneath him but they would have touched the floor if he’d let them. The discussion had turned to sewing, how best to work with the sequined and beaded fabric Molly needed to wrestle for the theatre’s next show without breaking his sewing machine.

Caduceus had been scoring tomorrow’s loaves with the elaborate leaf and vine patterns he liked to do, bringing his work out onto the counter because there were no other customers in and so he could listen to his friend’s chatter. Jester had been recounting a memorable night with some sequinned lingerie she’d bought the other week, how so many had come loose and turned up in places they weren’t meant to be that she’d had to buy new sheets, Molly cackling and snorting at all the appropriate places. Or, rather, inappropriate places.

Caduceus had murmured, not particularly minding whether they heard him or not, that lingerie mystified him a little but he’d always wanted to give it a try.

The immediate silence told him his friends had definitely heard. And the look they gave each other, barely concealed glee and eagerness, told him they intended to do something about it.

Which brought Cad to where he was now, legs folded almost up to his chest, in the cramped passenger seat of Mollymauk’s car. Caduceus didn’t know a lot about cars but it didn’t take much to see that Molly’s had gone beyond being on its last legs and was now running on pure willpower and prayers to the Moonweaver. It felt like the bass of the music pouring out of the speakers was going to be enough to shake it apart and Jester piped up from the back seat that the door handle had come off.

“There’s duct tape under the seat, babe,” Molly called back, unconcerned, learning forward to turn down the volume when he saw how Cad was wincing but being too awkward to say anything.

“You really don’t need to do this,” Cad insisted gently, “You’ve both been working all day, it’s getting late...”

“So have you,” Jester pointed out, voice a little indistinct through the strip of tape she was holding in her teeth, “And we don’t mind, it’ll be fun! We can help you pick out something nice! Anyhow, Beau and Yasha are at the gym until eight, Fjord too.”

“And Caleb has the kids,” Molly hummed, spinning the wheel lazily, far further than he should really have to just to take an easy corner, “This is a bonding exercise, Deucey. You need back up on something like this. You need your GNC club.”

“GNC?” Caduceus tilted his head.

“Gender non conforming,” Molly supplied, “You know, people who get it. Gender’s dead but friendship is not.”

“Your NB buddies!” Jester grinned, her head pushing in between the two of them, duct tape stuck to her horns, catching her homemade earrings with the plastic gummy bears, “Wait...your NBuddies!”

Caduceus considered that, his ears flapping a little as he took the tape off for Jester. He liked the idea of being part of a club. Even more, he liked the idea of being understood. He’d been worried about that when he’d first moved, breaking away from the grove where things were fluid and constantly changing as nature itself and entering a place where there might be rules and expectations in place that made sense to everyone but him. Where he would have to explain himself and define himself with terms that weren’t his own.

But here he was, feeling safe in a very unsafe vehicle, with friends to gladly cheer him on as he threw open the windows of the self he’d made a home in and tried new things.

Caduceus folded the piece of tape over and over in his long fingers and smiled.

“So what is it that mystifies you, exactly?” Mollymauk twitched some scandalous lace as they moved deeper into the boutique. Apparently this is where he and Jester had been coming for ages, enough that the drow behind the counter had known their names and greeted them with high fives.

“I guess...the concept?” Caduceus held his tail so it wouldn’t knock anything over, some of the displays were elaborate and delicate looking and full of things that would probably vibrate loudly if they hit the floor and that would be embarrassing, “I thought the idea of sex was to wear nothing rather than something. Where in the whole...process does this stuff come in?”

Molly nodded, managing to listen intently while dragging Jester by the tail so she wouldn’t dive headfirst into the costumes part of the shop, “Anywhere really. They make stuff you can still fuck in, if efficiency is what you’re worried about. But I think the function of this kind of outfit is to make you feel pretty, y’know? Get you in the right headspace, get you feeling yourself, yeah? It doesn’t always need to be about sex.”

“Sometimes I just wear pretty lingerie under my clothes cos it puts me in a good mood!” Jester bounced on the balls of her feet, ducking behind racks to sneak sips of the milkshake she’d smuggled past the cashier, “Helps me feel more like me.”

“Oh,” Cad said softly, tilting his head to consider the silk and satin and lace around them in a different way, “That sounds nice, actually.”

“Which is why it’s important to choose things you really like,” Molly nodded encouragingly, taking a sip of Jester’s shake and dodging the punch she aimed at his shoulder, “It’s a treat for yourself, this kind of stuff. And, when it inevitably shortens Fjord’s shorts by a good few inches because you’re going to look utterly stunning, that’s a bonus.”

Caduceus turned pink under his fur, a smile playing on his lips, “You think he’d like me wearing this kind of thing?”

“If you love yourself in it, Caddy, he will,” Jester beamed confidently.

“So...what’s catching your eye?” Molly prompted, seeing the excitement in his bright purple eyes, “They’ve got a good size range here, gaps for tails. Anything you like, they’ll have it to fit you.”

Caduceus looked around, ears lifting and whiskers twitching with interest. Anything he liked. No need to wonder if they would have things made to fit his tall, awkward body, no need to feel the pinching anxiety he’d grown too familiar with in clothing shops. A place where he could fit. And the only purpose was to make him feel beautiful.

“I like...green. And I like flowers.”

Molly and Jester shared that look again, the look of remembering when they’d had that moment of realisation too, when they’d discovered the world had space for them as they were. A look of delight at seeing it happen for their friend too and knowing they’d had a hand in it.

“Let’s get to work then,” Molly grinned.

Caduceus still had a little more time before Fjord came back from the gym. They’d checked and double checked the sizes on everything but Mollymauk still advised trying them on to make sure he was happy with them. And honestly, Cad’s excitement meant he didn’t want to wait.

So he stood in front of the full length mirror, after clearing away the clothes that were draped over it, with his hair gathered up in a thick bun at the nape of his neck, wearing little beyond the dull gold light of the sunset coming in through the windows. He’d bought three sets at the store and a few bits of jewellery to go through his piercings, actually a rather modest haul compared to what Molly and Jester bought for themselves but he was just starting out, after all.

There was one in green silk with garters and lace panels. There was a bodysuit made of mostly straps in a mossy blue colour that reminded him of water and looked pretty against his fur. But he quickly decided his favourite. The main material was sheer, meant to look like it wasn’t there at all, so the effect was that he’d laid a number of beautiful, intricately embroidered flowers across his body, teasingly concealing the barest amount.

That one he couldn’t quite bear to take off, even after he saw it fit him perfectly. Caduceus kept turning this way and that, grinning widely, seeing how it looked from different angles, touching the fabric, feeling how the stitches rose and fell under his fingertips. He looked like a dryad, wearing only sunlight and flowers, glowing from the inside out with an ethereal, untouchable kind of beauty.

And he liked it. He liked it a lot.

Caduceus had always felt mostly at home with how he expressed himself. He’d had eighty years to decide who he was and to know it was okay, that the Wildmother would always accept him and some individuals would not and that was outside of his control. Dysphoria was a word he’d learned the meaning of only after he’d moved to the city.

But this was the first time he’d been able to understand why Fjord looked at him the way he did, why he wanted him. Those dark nights when he’d lain awake with his head on his boyfriend’s chest and listened to the heart that was promised to him and wondered why, of all the people in the world, Fjord’s body stirred for him, those nights felt far away right now. Because he could see it for himself now. There was a connection in his mind, clear as day, that had been dark before.

He was beautiful. He was desirable. And this was good to know.

Caduceus mustn’t have heard the front door open, more in his head and in the mirror than in their bedroom. He mustn’t have heard Fjord throwing his bag down in the hall, his heavy footfalls across the old, creaking wood.

All Cad heard was the bedroom door starting to swing and his boyfriend’s call of, “I’m home, love, just going to showe-oh.”

Cad turned quickly, the magic broken, suddenly only able to think about the fact that he was wearing ridiculous lingerie with absolutely no warning, no rose petals or candles or glasses of champagne to try and pretend this was a deliberate surprise, “Fjord! Sorry, I...I was just…”

He faltered for words but couldn’t find any. Though it seemed Fjord was having the same difficulty. He was in his gym clothes, shirt still sticking to his chest and hair pushed back from his damp forehead with a simple band. And his jaw was on the floor. And his eyes...

“Um...Molly and Jester took me shopping today?” Cad explained, feeling heat rise to the surface of his skin for a different reason, “I thought I’d try something new.”

Fjord swallowed hard, his eyes wide and darting, unable to decide which part of Caduceus they wanted to stare at most, “Yeah? You...you look...I mean, god, Cad…”

Cad’s smile was back, flickering into life, “I look pretty, don’t I?”

Fjord gave a soft laugh, his eyes practically flooding over, “Pretty? Cad, there aren’t even words, love.”

Caduceus’ ears flapped and his tail curled in the air. He liked that. He liked the idea of things that could be said without words.

“Can I?” Fjord stepped forward, muscles coiled and ready, body telegraphing his need as clearly as a hunting animal.

“Oh please,” Cad breathed, “Fjord, please.”

It was well and truly night by the time they were done and Caduceus was pleased to learn he could feel just as beautiful once the lingerie had been eagerly pulled away. It was like a light had been switched on somewhere inside him and on it would stay.

He slept contentedly, easily, head resting on Fjord’s chest. His braid was undone, hair settling over his shoulders in waves made wild by his boyfriend’s fingers passing through it again and again. His lips were swollen pleasantly and flushed, his body would be full of well earned aches in the morning.

He was the most beautiful thing Fjord had ever seen.

He was ready for sleep himself, more than ready, but before he settled down to let himself drift away in his boyfriend’s arms, the only way he could ever really sleep completely peacefully, he had something to do. He pulled his phone out, fortunately within reach because his shorts had ended up hanging off the bedside lamp. Just a quick text, sent to two of his friends- Little Blue and Peacock according to his contact list.

thank you. seriously guys THANK. YOU.

And if Molly and Jester hadn’t been busy with their own partners, their own purchases, their own bliss, they would have seen it and grinned that grin again.

But there would be time in the morning.

#fjorclay #caduceus clay #fjord #critical role #everyone is trans #everyone is gay #modern au #fluff #smut #please let me know what you think! #teahaw

[bangchanzz]

Lover’s Paradise

Chapter 5

JEON JUNGKOOK X READER

Summary: Idol!Jungkook and Celebrity!Y/N have been friends for years. For both of them, their friendship has always bordered on more than friends, but neither of them are brave enough to take the leap of faith and confess. But when Y/N hosts the boys of BTS at her suave LA mansion and somehow finds herself sharing a bed with Jungkook, who harbors a few dark secrets of his own, things spin out of control. Tensions rise as she shows them a glimpse of her suave superstar lifestyle, and secrets come out that could change people’s lives forever.

Warnings: Severe depression and anxiety. Mentions of suicide. Eventual smut. Mentions of sex acts. Virgin!JK. Mentions of drug and alcohol use. ANGST

Word Count: 4.4K

Author’s Note: OH she’s angsty. We love good old miscommunication as a plot device :) Enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Lover’s Paradise Masterlist

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Chapter 5

YOUR POV

You were roused from the peaceful clutches of sleep by the unmistakable noise of someone throwing up.

With a sigh you flung the covers back and slid out of bed, wincing slightly as your feet hit the cold hardwood floor. You walked to the bathroom to find Jungkook’s retching form slumped over the toilet, one cheek pressed to the cool rim. The acrid stench of vomit had you gagging in the doorway.

As an avid drinker you yourself had been in the very same position many a time and had sympathy for the poor kid. Alcohol was one tricky drug that unfortunately took a while to master.

You sat down beside him and brushed his hair back from his face, your other hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

He looked at you, his soft brown eyes brimming with misery, tears streaming down his face. Your heart clenched. You wanted nothing more than to take him in your arms and ease his pain like you did last night, but that wasn’t an option right now.

“I don’t feel good,” he sobbed.

“I know,” you replied. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? Stay here.”

He could only nod before another wave of nausea hit and he started throwing up.

You felt bad, but as a sympathetic vomiter you couldn’t get out of there quick enough.

In the kitchen you found Namjoon and Jin enjoying a breakfast of fresh fruit.

“Hey Y/N,” Jin said cheerfully. “How was your night?”

“My night was fine,” you said, reaching for a glass from the cabinet. “Jungkook on the other hand… well, let’s just say he is currently paying the piper.”

The two older boys shared a concerned look.

“How bad?” Namjoon asked.

“He’s throwing up,” you responded, filling up the glass, “and I don’t do very well with vomit so do you guys think you could…?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jin said, grabbing the glass of water from your hands and heading upstairs, Namjoon in tow.

You sighed and leaned against the counter. Now what? Going upstairs wasn’t an option, but you were still exhausted, so you wandered into the living room to find Brandon watching Netflix on the couch.

“Hey,” you said, slumping down next to him and immediately leaning into his side.

“Good morning, Princess,” Brandon said with a grin, slinging his arm around your shoulders and planting a kiss on your temple.

“Jungkook is throwing up in my bathroom so this is my bed now.”

“Ah,” he responded absently, moving to lie down on the couch and pulling you with him. You settled in easily to the shape of his body—something you’d done a thousand times before. His cinnamon and clove scent draped over your senses, the sensation familiar and inviting as he traced little circles on your bare thigh.

But as your eyes drooped and you slowly faded into sleep you found yourself reliving the ways your body had fit into another boy’s; what it had felt like under his touch, and you found yourself wishing the body pressed against yours belonged to someone else.

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JUNGKOOK’S POV

After what felt like an eternity of throwing up all the food he’d eaten in the past 72 hours, Jungkook made his way downstairs to rejoin society. But as he descended the stairs he froze at the sight before him on the couch.

It was you and Brandon, both sound asleep with some sitcom playing softly on the TV.

He realized with no small amount of envy that the two of you fit together perfectly, like matching puzzle pieces. The two of you even looked good together, like you were destined to be a matching set.

A queen to his king. That’s what this was, and Jungkook was a fool for denying it. Brandon was a king in his own right; a king ruling over a broken kingdom of fame, sex, and designer drugs forged in ecstasy under a dusky palm-studded boulevard. He was a king of rowdy nights and drunken whispers displayed across billboards in neon lights, and as much as Jungkook wished he could deny it, that was your scene. You ruled beside him, untouched and unbothered by the inherent filth and dishonesty of it all, rising to your crown on waves of pleasure, both synthetic and carnal. You were a sex goddess, a party queen, an icon of higher living and its immortalizing qualities.

And Jungkook could never keep up. That was a scene so displaced from his normal life that he couldn’t even imagine it. He didn’t belong in your world., and he never would.

So Jungkook sealed away his heart and walked back upstairs where he surrounded himself with the better memories of you and let his soul bleed out in the soft morning light.

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YOUR POV

You woke up a few hours later to Brandon tossing you on floor like a sack of grain.

“I gotta piss,” was all he said as he stood up from the couch and walked to the restroom.

“Ass,” you called after him.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Yoongi said, descending the staircase. “Ready to work on the album?”

“Yeah, let me just go get dressed.”

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The first writing session went fairly smooth. You talked about concepts and possible tracks, always making sure that the boys were as involved in the prosses as possible.

But throughout the course of the day, you couldn’t help but notice that Jungkook seemed to be avoiding you.

He made a point not to be close to you and would only answer you in one-word responses. You shoved the resulting gnawing feeling away because you were working, but once the session was finished and they boys left you alone, your mind couldn’t help but drift back to Jungkook.

Is he still embarrassed about the other morning?

No, we settled that.

Is it about the cuddling last night?

No, he seems more mad than embarrassed...

Is it something I did?

Should I talk to him?

Thoughts tornadoed around your head, so loud and forceful you felt like your skull might burst.

Just then, your stomach growled, so you got up, deciding it was late enough in the day for dinner.

You left your writing studio and headed towards the kitchen, but before you got there you were met by dozens of people carrying what looked to be party supplies through your house.

“What the…” you started, but then saved your breath. You already knew who to yell at.

“BRANDON!” you yell, stomping past a procession of men carrying kegs and straight to the backyard, where you found the Party General himself signing for a giant chocolate fountain on the patio.

“Yes darling?” He asked innocently, not even deigning to look up from his paperwork.

“What the hell is this?” you hissed, gesturing to a giant ice sculpture of a fish being placed in the yard.

He handed the clipboard back to a young man in a uniform who took it and left, leaving the two of you alone.

“Well,” he says, looking over his sunglasses at the ice sculpture and then back at you, “I believe it’s a koi.”

You resist the urge to slap him. “Every day I grow closer and closer to killing you in your sleep.”

“Oh, goodie.” He says. “I do love surprises.”

“Clearly,” you seethe, gesturing to the party decorations throughout the yard.

For a moment, neither one of you speaks. Brandon merely stares at you with mirthful innocence as you glare at him and fantasize about playing air hockey with his kneecaps.

“Since when are we throwing a party?” you demand finally.

“Since a few hours ago,” he shrugs, as if it’s no big deal.

“And when were you going to tell me?” you demand.

He shrugs again. “You were working, I didn’t want to bother you.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, how very noble of you.”

“Why thank you,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with delight at your obvious rage. “I’m inclined to agree.”

“Did Caleb agree to this?” you demand, trying to figure out if you had an ally or not.

Brandon snorts. “He’s the one who came up with the idea. I just made it better.”

You stare at him, trying to sort your jumbled emotions into a coherent thought.

He reaches over and pats you on the cheek. “You should go get dressed. People will be here around nine.” And with that, he walks away to intercept a courier carrying a large floral wreath.

What even was the theme Brandon was going for anyway?

You decided that you had no choice but to go along with it, however pissed you were for being left in the dark. So, you trudged upstairs, nervous that Jungkook might be in your room, and wondering what you’ll say to him if he is.

You weren’t sure if you were elated or disappointed to find him missing. You tried not to think about it at all.

Instead, you threw yourself into getting ready, finding peace in your makeup routine. You decided on a natural eye and a red lip that perfectly matched your favorite red party dress.

It was made of a satin material that reminded you more of a nightgown than a dress, but you liked the way it shimmers under party lighting. But what you really loved about this dress was the cut outs right below your breasts that showed just enough underboob to be alluring, but still tasteful. You threw on some gold gladiator stilettos and the layered gold pendant Brandon had gotten for you for your birthday last year. Lastly, you braided your hair and coiled it around your head, making it appear like a crown. By the time you descended the staircase a little after nine, the party was already in full swing.

You immediately spot Kenzie in the hallway and ignore the gaping stares of unfamiliar party goers whose eyes you feel on your body from a room away.

“Y/N!” Kenzie squeals, spotting you. “We were just about to come find you!” she says, pulling Arthur towards you.

“You found me,” you say weakly. “Now let’s get me a shot. Or six.”

Kenzie furrows her brow. “Oh god, what happened today? Did the writing session go poorly or something?”

“No,” you reply with a shake of your head. “It went great actually. I’m just in a weird mood.”

You can tell by the hesitation in her face that she doesn’t quite believe you, but she sees something in you that doesn’t make her push further, and instead, dutifully pours you six very full shots of vodka, which you don’t hesitate to drink.

You had spotted Jungkook a few times, but he was always too far away to ever go to him, so you had stayed mostly with Kenzie and Arthur until they disappeared to go make out somewhere.

You found yourself alone in the kitchen, staring at your phone, until someone was suddenly standing right in front of you. You look up and meet Brandon’s drunken smile as he wiggles a small bag of white powder in your face.

“Wanna do some coke with me?” he asks, his grin all teeth.

You stare at the coke for a second, weighing your options. But ultimately, what have you got to lose? Not much these days.

“Sure,” you shrug. “You cut the lines.”

Brandon makes a very drunken high-pitched noise you think is supposed to be a squeal as he clears a space on the island and pulls out his wallet.

He goes first, using a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill to inhale the fine white powder from the marble.

You go next, wordlessly taking the rolled-up dollar as Brandon sniffs next to you. You do one line, and then another, wincing slightly as the drug bit the back of your throat.

The high is almost instantaneous, energy suddenly gracing your jittery nerves.

You turn to Brandon, his eyes twinkling and his smile giddy as you reach up and wipe a bit of cocaine from right below his nose. You pop your finger in your mouth, rubbing all over your gums until that familiar numb feelings takes a hold of your mouth.

“Hey, I got you this,” Brandon slurs, obviously very, very fucked up. He outstretches a shaky finger to trace the necklace you wear, taking the jeweled pendant at the end between his thumb and his index finger.

You chuckle. “I thought Caleb picked it out.”

“But I paid for it!” he protested, swaying slightly. “And just because he saw it first doesn’t mean he picked it out. I have good taste.”

You laugh. “Yeah, okay, your one virtue is good taste in jewelry, I’ll give you that.”

He leaned in close, his mouth almost touching the shell of your ear. From here, you could smell the tequila on his breath. “Don’t look now, but Jungkook is staring at us,” he whispered too loudly to really be considered a whisper.

You whirl around to follow where Brandon is looking, but you only catch Jungkook’s broad back as he walked away from you.

Brandon smacked your thigh. “I told you not to look!”

By now you’re frowning after Jungkook and Brandon really is in no mood to deal with your stubborn crush, so when you turn around, Brandon is gone.

You wonder how much Jungkook saw.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him knowing about your partying habits, you just didn’t want him to find out like this. You were afraid that he might see you as irresponsible or immature, as many people did when you merely mentioned the word ‘cocaine’. You realized with no small amount of discomfort that you actually cared what he thought about you. You didn’t like this new feeling.

You head back out into the party, hoping to find Jungkook and maybe talk to him, but before you can accomplish that, a group of friends call you over, and you abandon yourself to the revelry, letting the drugs in your system wash through you with a euphoric high.

***************************************************************************************

The good thing about coke is that it hits fast.

The bad thing about coke is that it’s over fast.

Soon, your limbs felt heavy, the day’s work and evening full of wrecking your body finally taking its toll. You slip away from your friends, desperate to go upstairs and get away for a moment.

The piano music greeted you before you even set foot in your bedroom.

It was a sad melody, a tune that sang of loss and heartache and a sorrow so soul-deep it left scars.

You softly cracked the door to your room open to see Jungkook seated at the piano, his long fingers dancing gracefully over the keys. He had his back to you, his shoulders curved inward as if burdened by an invisible weight.

You realized that you should probably say something to alert him of your presence. The moment was too personal, too intimate, to be unknowingly shared, but the soft music was hypnotic in the way that it pulled you in. And then he started singing, and your soul shattered.

It was just a hum, a simple melody over the agonizing notes of the piano, but the emotion it carried was undeniable, like the suggestion of words without actually speaking.

And to you, that said more than any word in any language could. There were moments sometimes where the saddest of music was too happy for what you felt inside, where silence was the only tune your heart could bare as it struggled to find the will to beat.

The song wrapped itself around your very bones, the sorrow in the notes squeezing until you thought your skeleton would turn to dust. You didn’t know you were crying until a tear dripped down your neck and chest. And then one tear turned into many as the rising tide of sorrow that lived deep in your stomach threatened to drown you, and you choked on a sob loud enough that Jungkook stopped playing and whirled around.

You took the split second of his surprise to contain yourself, to push those horrible demons back into their little box inside your soul and lock them away for as long as you could manage.

Your eyes met Jungkook’s from across the room, where you watched surprise and sorrow mingle in his brown irises.

“Sorry,” you choked out, clearing the tears from your throat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt; I just needed some air.” You swallowed thickly, hoping he didn’t notice.

He dropped your gaze like it had wounded him, and instead looked out the windows on your balcony towards the sea. “It’s okay. You didn’t interrupt anything important.” He eyed you carefully and you had to resist the urge to squirm under his knowing gaze. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you murmur, fidgeting in the doorway. “That melody was beautiful. What was it?”

There was a pause before he responded. “Nothing. I was just messing around on the piano.”

“Well, you should mess around more,” you said, your voice soft. “That was seriously good. It was like, hauntingly beautiful.”

Another pause. “You think?”

“I know so. I am a producer after all,” you murmured. “You should work on it tomorrow at the writing session.”

“Maybe,” was his reluctant response. He said nothing else.

In the silence that followed you moved to stand in the middle of the floor.

Jungkook remained seated at the piano, lost in thought. “You love him, don’t you?” he asked, doing nothing to hide the note of angry reluctance in his tone, like a cornered animal knowing it lost.

“What?” you asked, staring at his profile.

“Brandon. You love him and he loves you. It’s obvious.”

Annoyance flared through you. “God, why do people keep asking me that?”

“Because, Y/N!” Jungkook exploded. “Everyone sees the way you two look at each other, how close you are, the way you act around each other, and it’s obvious to everyone except you two at this point that you’re in love and don’t care about the rest of us commoners.” He spat the last couple words like they were poison on his tongue.

“What are you talking about? Of course I love Brandon, he’s my best friend. I love Caleb too! We all live together! We’re friends. But just because I care about someone does not mean I’m in love with them.” The annoyance inside you was slowly building to anger as you sank deeper and deeper into yourself.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jungkook spat, taking a step closer to you. “I see the way you touch him, the way he touches you. There’s nothing platonic about that, Y/N.”

“That’s just the way we are with each other, we’re touchy people, not that my friendship with Brandon is any of your business,” you reply, ice coating your words.

“It is my business when you keep shoving it in my face!” he hissed. “And you never touch anyone else that way,” he added, almost as though it were an afterthought. He took another step towards you and you could now smell the beer on his breath.

“Oh, is that what this is about? You’re jealous?” you demand, the alcohol and drugs in your system loosening your tongue. There was something hopeful in your words, just as much as there was malice. You wanted to hurt him, but you also hoped that maybe you were right and maybe he was jealous. Maybe this wasn’t just a friendship.

You so desperately hoped it wasn’t. You found yourself willing to give anything to have him, and the thought scared you.

Somewhere in your head you knew that you had been in love with him for a while now, but it had never really clicked until tonight.

You found yourself staring at the defined lines of his jaw when he wasn’t looking, or the cute way he crinkled his nose when he thought something was really funny. You were fascinated with the way his shirt would brush up against the powerful lines of his muscled abdomen, something you found yourself yearning to see in full. You loved the smooth way he moved, like water, with his fluid dancer’s grace, even when he was doing the most basic of actions.

You loved the way your soul felt lighter around him, the way you felt better, more whole in his presence. He was like a balm for your wounded, broken soul.

You watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed at your words.

“Is that what you want, Jungkook?” you demand, your voice low. “Do you want me to cuddle with you on the couch, and sit on your lap in the hot tub, and put my arms around you like this when I’m drunk?” you ask, closing the remaining space between you two and twinning your arms around his neck. Up close, you could see the flush of his tan skin, and the way his pupils were blown out to hide the brown of his irises. His breath fanned across your face; his mouth frozen in the shape of an O. His body trembled beneath your touch.

Logically, you knew this was a very bad idea. He’s your friend, and nothing more. You’re producing his album, its wildly unprofessional. You should stop.

But you threw caution to the wind and you slid your hands down his muscled arms and gripped his wrists, trying not to meet the intensity of his gaze, as you moved his hands to the small of your back, slightly lower than what would be considered proper. The back of your party dress was cut low, and his hands grazed painfully slow across your bare skin, leaving tingling trails of electricity in their wake.

“Is this what you want Jungkook? Do you want to touch me?” you whispered into his ear, your mouth millimeters away from the skin right below his ear. “Because you can. I want you to.”

“You… want me to?” he choked out, his body becoming very still.

“Yes,” you murmured, pulling back to look at the starved look in his eye.

His grip tightened around your middle, pulling you flush against his muscled chest, like he had finally realized that this—that you—were real. “Y/N, I- “

The sudden knock on the door had him releasing you and stepping away, your body suddenly robbed of the warmth he radiated.

Both of you stared at the floor as the door slowly opened and the sounds of the party permeated the dulled silence. Taehyung stuck his head through the door, the rest of his figure following soon after.

“Hey,” he asked, closing the door softly behind him. “I just came up here to check on Jungkook. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Taehyung,” Jungkook snaps. He’s standing so still, his eyes so full of fire, that it honestly scares you a little bit.

“Hey,” you snap at Jungkook, letting your own anger slip its leash. “Just because you’re mad at me doesn’t mean you get to take it out on him.”

Jungkook’s eyes flare as his focus goes back to you. “What? Are you going to sleep with Taehyung, too?”

Before you really know what you’re doing, you slap Jungkook right across the face.

Taehyung sucks in a breath from behind you, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

Jungkook slowly turns to look at you, disbelief plainly etched across his face. “Did you just slap me?”

“And? Did you not deserve to be slapped?” you demand, not yielding a single inch.

You and Jungkook stare wordlessly at each other; Taehyung using this moment to quietly excuse himself.

Even after the door clicks quietly shut behind you, neither of you speak, choosing instead to stare into each other’s faces, daring the other to talk.

You observe the scowling lines of his face, the tears pricking the corner of his eyes, and you realize he looks more betrayed than mad.

And it breaks your heart to see him look like that.

“What the hell was that?” you finally demand, breaking the silence.

“I should be the one asking you that,” He huffs, eyes flashing with hesitation.

“What is up with you? Why are behaving like this?” you ask, your eyes narrowing up at him.

He takes a step closer, placing the sharp curves of his collarbone mere inches from your face. A wicked part of you wonders how soft his skin would feel under your lips, what kind of moans would slip past his lips if you kissed just the right spot.

“You were the one who made me touch you,” he says, his voice breathy but still angry.

You were the one who made me touch you.

His words are like ice water on your skin. A sinkhole opens up inside your chest, but this time you do not fight it, you simply let it suck you in.

“Did you not want me to?” you ask quietly, but not softly.

His eyes become unreadable. “Why would I want to touch you like that?”

Everything stops. You feel the repulsion in his voice in your very bones. Suddenly your head becomes incredibly loud.

You’re tired. You are so fucking tired of this hurt, this rejection, from everyone in your life—especially yourself.

You fucked up and it’s probably cost you one of the most important relationships in your life. And now you had to live with that.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be doing it again,” you say flatly, your voice devoid of any emotion. You felt yourself shutting down.

You realize you’ve let your mask fall—the façade you cloak yourself in to mask the pain that’s always lurking just below the surface. You typically don’t let people see you like this—the real you. The dark truth of your heart.

He’s looking at you with a mixture of hurt and anger and you can’t stand the way his eyes search your face with feverish unfamiliarity.

You can’t bear to stand here with him anymore, not when you feel your heart shattering into little pieces.

It’s over.

You fucked up.

Live with it.

You don’t say a single word as you lock yourself in the bathroom; he lets you walk away.

You turn on the shower so no one can hear you cry, and you scream into a towel until your heart feels empty and your limbs are heavy.

You don’t see Jungkook for the rest of the night.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #Jungkook smut #Jungkook imagine #Jungkook scenario #bts #bts jungkook #bts imagine #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios

[littlespoonevan]

I would love to read a fic by you of sandy coming out to mickey, or mickey to sandy... or any version of that concept. i just kinda love the gay milkoviches

ahh so i found this one quite difficult bc sandy isn’t someone i’ve ever really written before and i don’t know what she would’ve been like before this season (though i’m guessing not all that different) but i tried my best!!! this is set during some vague time between 3x05 and 3x06 bc i wanted ian and mickey to kiss but i didn’t want any of the 3x06 hell hanging over them either ajskdh enjoy!!

*

If living in the same house as his dad is hell thenIan on top of him with his tongue down Mickey’s throat is definitely heaven. Inmoments like this it’s hard for him to remember why he’d been so resistant toletting Ian kiss him in the first place because, fuck, Ian knows what he’sdoing. He’s got one hand in Mickey’s hair and one hand up Mickey’s shirt and he’skissing Mickey like he wants to devour him.

Honestly, Mickey has just enough presence of mind topull Ian’s hips down by his belt and let him keep kissing him until his mouthis numb.

Ian’s hand is just grazing the waistband of hissweatpants when Mickey hears the unmistakeable sound of his bedroom door beingopened. He shoves Ian off him at the same time Ian rears back and away as afamiliar voice lets out a teasing, “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Mickey sucks in a deep breath and pushes himself tosit up, never once taking his eyes off Sandy where she stands smirking in thedoorway.

“It’s not-“

“What it looks like?” she guesses. The sardonic grinon her face makes Mickey’s stomach drop as she pushes herself off the doorframeand steps into the room. “Mick, you can do better than that.”

Mickey’s blood is rushing so loudly in his ears he thinkshe might pass out but he squares his shoulders and bites the inside of his cheekas he waits for the threat or the blackmail. He knows how this shit goes, howhis family works. What he doesn’t expect is for Sandy to close the door behindher and drop onto the empty space at the end of his mattress. “At least say youwere wrestling,” she scoffs. “Or lock your fucking door maybe.”

“I told you to lock the door,” Mickey grumbles,kicking out with his foot until it hits Ian’s shin where he’s sitting betweenhim and Sandy, back pressed to the wall.

“I thought you locked it,” Ian hisses in Mickey’sdirection before he goes back to eyeing Sandy warily.

Sandy regards them both for a minute, leaning back onher hands, and Mickey tries to calm himself down. Sandy’s…well, she’s notnormal but she’s as close to someone Mickey can trust as he’s got in hisfamily.

“I guess it’s easier for girls,” Sandy says finallywith a careless shrug. “I can just say I’m having a sleepover and no one batsan eye. Then again, Mom’s always too high to notice anyway.”

Mickey blinks, brain short-circuiting as he tries toprocess what she just said. Sandy watches him, a faint, amused smirk still onher face as she inclines her head.

“You’re gay?” he blurts out, feeling mildlyembarrassed when she laughs.

“Guess this shit is genetic, huh?” she says beforeholding out her hand. “I keep your dirty secret, you keep mine. Otherwise it’smutual destruction. Deal?”

Mickey watches her, feeling completely taken aback byhow this has played out. He’s imagined this scenario so many times in his worstfucking nightmares and every time he’s always ended up dead. He’d never evenconsidered this to be a possibility.

“Deal,” he agrees after a beat, lightly slappingSandy’s hand with his own.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” she says beforelooking pointedly in Ian’s direction.

“Oh,” Mickey says, feeling clumsy with whiplash. Whatthe fuck is happening right now? “Sandy, Gallagher. Gallagher, Sandy. She’s mycousin.”

“Ian,” Ian offers weakly and Sandy gives him a shrewdlook before announcing, “I like Gallagher better.”

“So how long has this been going on?” she asks then, barrellingon with tactless abandon.

“About a year and a half,” Ian answers when Mickeydoesn’t say anything and Sandy almost chokes on her own tongue.

“A year and ahalf?” she splutters and Mickey feels his face heat up.

“I had two stints in juvie in that year and a half,”Mickey feels the need to point out, not that it even makes a difference. As ifhe did anything other than think about Ian while he was locked up.

“Still.Does anyone know?” she asks. “Wait, your dad doesn’t know, does he?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Mickey mutters, closinghis eyes briefly when he feels Ian’s knee nudge his own. It shouldn’t feel ascomforting as he does.

Sandy concedes that with a nod before looking at Ian.“Anyone know about you?”

“Mandy,” Ian says immediately and Mickey can’t helpfeeling the barest sense of jealousy. Shit would be so much fucking easier ifMandy knew about him too. Too bad the thought of telling her makes him sick tohis stomach.

“She knows I’m gay,” Ian explains. “But not about meand Mickey. Same goes for my family.”

Sandy nods and looks like she’s about to say morebefore Ian’s phone goes off. Mickey watches him fish it out of his pocket andcheck a text. His eyes immediately find Mickey’s when he looks up. “It’s Fiona,”he says apologetically. “I gotta bail.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Sandy hopsup from the bed and spins to face them. “Well, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,”she announces. “And I’m gonnaremember to lock the door.”

Mickey flips her off as she disappears into hisbathroom but he’s silently grateful for the moment of privacy. As soon as she’slocked the door behind her Ian shuffles to the edge of the bed and moves closerinto Mickey’s space.

Mickey holds still, unsure whether he wants to pullIan in or push him away.

“Don’t freak out on me, Mick,” Ian requests quietlyand Mickey doesn’t think, just leans in and brushes their lips together. Iandraws him in again before he can pull away, kissing him once, twice, threetimes before letting him go.

“Sandy’s cool,” Mickey says, forcing his eyes up fromIan’s lips to meet his gaze. “I trust her.”

“Good,” Ian murmurs. “Call me later, okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. If I remember,” Mickey hedges,feeling a grin work its way onto his face as Ian fists a hand in his t-shirt topull him in.

“Call me later,” Ian repeats, punctuating his orderwith a kiss before he releases Mickey.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Gallagher,” Mickey blustersbut it’s all bravado and he has to work extra hard not to let himself smile.

Ian flips him off, walking backward towards the dooruntil his hand lands on the handle and he finally turns around. Mickey watcheshim go and ignores the way his heart twists. Once Ian’s gone Mickey takes asteadying breath and calls out to Sandy.

“He’s gone. You can come out now.”

Sandy opens the door way too quickly which suggestsshe’d been just waiting for her cue but Mickey tries not to think about thefact she might’ve overheard anything. She takes Ian’s seat against the wallwhen she returns, shoving Mickey’s legs out of the way with her foot.

“So you like him?” she asks without preamble andMickey feels his insides seize up.

“It’s just sex,” he says with a scoff, forcing hisexpression to stay neutral.

Sandy snorts and immediately calls bullshit. “Youtellin’ me you two’ve been fuck buddies for a year and a half and you don’tcare about him even a little bit? His dick can’t be that great.”

“You haven’t seen his dick,” Mickey says, huffing alaugh before instantly clamping his mouth shut.

Sandy notices the panicked look on his face andlaughs. “First time joking about it out loud, huh?”

“It’s weird having someone know,” he mumbles, shrugginghalf-heartedly as he picks at his comforter beneath him.

Sandy nods like she understands and she does, hesupposes. “You didn’t answer the question though.”

Mickey squirms, knowing he could lie but for somereason he doesn’t want to. “I don’t know. It’s just easy with him.”

Sandy looks surprised for a beat before the amusedsmirk is back. “That’s the gayest shit you’ve ever said.”

Mickey huffs, rolling his eyes, but weirdly, he almostfeels like smiling. “Shut the fuck up.”

“For what it’s worth,” Sandy says, looking oddlysincere. “Going by the puppy dog eyes he kept shooting you after I showed up,it looks like he likes you too.”

Mickey stares down at his hands as he processes that.The fact that someone has even paid attention to the way Ian looks at him ishard to wrap his head around. The fact that someone knows about him and Ian at all is hard to wrap his head around.But a part of him – and he’s surprised how big a part – feels sort of comfortedby it. Makes him feel like it’s real.

As Sandy smoothly changes the subject to the girl she’sbeen sort of seeing he thinks maybe her knowing might not be so bad.

*

#gallavich #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #sandy milkovich #shameless #my fics #asks #Anon

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 16: Physical Education

Dark Ones were instinctively selfish. They sought to protect themselves, save themselves, above anyone else in the world. For their own purposes, they would lie, cheat, steal, and con. Then they'd do it a thousand times over again just to escape the consequences of their actions.

Yet here he was, burning…and he didn't give a fuck.

His body was on fire. His skin felt like it was aflame. His blood boiling as his mouth and tongue found lips and flesh and sensitive areas that made her gasp for breath. And he reveled in it. Every gasp, every breath, every sound of pleasure that poured out of her mouth left him feeling heady and powerful, weak and strong all at one time. His hands followed the curves of her body, his fingers tangled in her hair. He burned with every rock of their hips. And he didn't care if it never stopped.

She felt incredible. Belle made him feel alive and young and healthy, as though he was thriving. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt any of those things, couldn't remember if he ever had. He couldn't remember ever really wanting to before, not until there was her.

When they were finished, she wrapped herself around him again, just as she had the previous two nights, and he let himself cling to her as well. He didn't care if he'd spend the night using magic to regulate his body temperature in order to assure they stayed like this. If this was what she wanted and what he wanted, then he'd make sure it would be done. So, when she melted into his skin, he let his fingers filter through the tangles of her hair, felt his way up and down her spine, and kissed her forehead. Oh, he hoped she knew how much he loved her, how much he cherished her.

"I could get used to this," she went on quietly. "I could get used to being with you this way every night for the rest of my life."

He couldn't help it. He gave a small snort at her idea of a perfect future. It was his idea of a perfect world, too, in all honesty. This was the third night in a row they'd done this, and he had no regrets, not like before, but he understood the way the world worked, the way human bodies worked. He knew that every single night for the rest of their lives was a wish for the afterlife only, especially with her so young.

But now that he thought of it, they needed to start thinking about this in a safer way. He loved being with her like this just as she did, but if they kept it up, then at this rate, she'd be pregnant before he left to find Baelfire. He'd had a vision once, of her holding a baby in her arms, but the thought of that image coming so soon after her return to him…he'd be grateful for any child they had, but if he had a choice, he wanted to wait. He wanted to enjoy what they had a little while longer without the complexity of children. Especially when he considered the rest of the Seer's Prophecy and the boy that would be his undoing, maybe the small baby he'd seen her with was something he'd leave for her after he was gone. There was a sad thought.

"Not every night," he muttered, forcing himself away from thoughts of leaving her alone in the world with a child.

But instead of nodding in confirmation or understanding, she turned her head to glance up at him. "You don't think we could?"

"No, it's not that we couldn't," he corrected immediately when her voice sounded almost hurt at the suggestion. "I just mean we shouldn't. We can't."

"Why?" she demanded after a quiet moment. She sounded angrier than before as she pushed herself up on her elbow to look down at him. "Why can't we? Why 'shouldn't' we?"

Yes, that was anger. She'd misunderstood him though he couldn't figure out how. She'd put pieces of his life together in that castle, large quantities of it, with only single sentences, sometimes one-word sentences! But this wasn't making sense to her?

It was odd. Something about it didn't feel right.

"Because if we're not careful, you'll be pregnant before we ever have any time to ourselves," he pointed out.

He expected to see recognition, a flash of understanding that would make her laugh at the conclusions she'd jumped to before she lay down next to him again. But that wasn't her reaction. He didn't see understanding, only confusion and…fear?

"So, we have to stop?" she questioned sadly, "permanently?"

"No," he laughed at the sadness in her voice. "We just…"

The sudden look of desperation on her face stopped his words as he realized…maybe she wasn't the one that had misunderstood. Maybe it was him. She was confused and still looking fearful. Maybe it wasn't the concept of not having sex that scared her, but something else.

Birth control, having sex led to babies; did he really have to explain it to her? He'd known about it in their world, and he was the village idiot. If he'd known it even then, she should have also. So why was she looking so confused and worried? Why was she looking like his remarks were brand new to her? She'd been engaged, for heaven's sake! Queens produced heirs. But there wasn't a single trace of recognition on her face. It baffled him. And terrified him in a way he couldn't quite understand.

"You really don't know this?" he half asked, half stated. No answer came. And he felt anger grow inside of him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? Prepare you for this or tell you about…you?! Your body?"

This was a joke, a misunderstanding. He hoped it was a joke. But as her face began to change and morph at his question, he realized it wasn't, not to her. She shook her head, averted her eyes, looked away.

"I never wanted to know," she admitted quietly, falling back to her side of the bed. No, he didn't buy that for a second. That was a reaction of shame. Shame! There was no joke that could elicit a reaction like that. She was the most intelligent person he'd ever met, man or woman! In the castle, she'd studied languages for the fun of it. But she'd never asked questions? Never wanted to know? What the hell had happened to her in that palace?! What would make such an intelligent and curious individual turn away from knowledge?

She glanced over at him, but when her eyes met his own, she quickly blushed and averted them again as if she were embarrassed.

He was just beginning to consider what to ask her when she sighed and reluctantly began to weave her tale, a sad one indeed. She was a princess, expected to marry, become Queen, and produce an heir. Growing up watching her parents and listening to stories made it all sound so lovely, but no one had ever delivered to her a solid truth, an honest truth about the process of it, not her mother or her father. In fact, it sounded as though her mother had actively monitored the books she read and the conversations she kept to be sure she never discovered anything even the slightest bit suggestive.

During the war she'd been promised to Gaston, she'd been part of a deal, a bride for soldiers to fight off the ogres, a disgusting trade considering he himself had offered a deal to Maurice to handle the ogres, and he'd turned him down. A deal with the devil was too much...offering his daughter up to a pig of a man was fine, apparently. After her mother died, the betrothal had become an engagement, which she hadn't wanted but accepted as she felt it was her duty to. Only then, when Gaston had moved in, and her wedding date loomed closer, had anyone, a maid by the sound of it, told her anything.

It had been done coldly, perhaps not with the intent of being cruel, but it was a cruel way to learn about it all the same. The maid had told her in an effort to help her understand, to make things easier. Instead, she'd been too violated at the news to feel any comfort and instead run away. She'd tried to learn on her own, to read the books she'd never managed to sneak past her mother, but she never managed very well, unable to get the thoughts and images her maid had placed in her head to settle.

She was crying by the time she confessed she'd given up trying to figure it out; convinced herself it was just better not to know. He couldn't blame her. He couldn't take much more after that either.

"Belle…"

His heart ached, his jaw tightened as tears threatened to overwhelm her, and he wished, he wanted, so badly, to tell her something, anything that might make it better in some way. But he didn't have the words. Not for her. Oh, he had words, a few choice words, words he'd like to deliver to her father on the other end of his cane for inflicting something so terrible on her. He'd given his daughter away and given permission for her to be used again and again! And the way her nurse had described it…no wonder she hadn't wanted to know about it or never been curious again. It probably left a bad taste in her mouth; it certainly had his. It had left her scarred. Not physically, no, but it was terrible what they'd groomed her for.

He didn't want to touch her, not in a way that was too intimate, not with a history like that, but he didn't want to leave her alone there to cry either. His touch had eased her nightmares every morning thus far; he wondered if it could ease this one too.

Gingerly, he rolled himself over and placed his hand against her cheek. He leaned down to touch his forehead to her own, hoping to prevent the approaching panic attack he'd brought on. He didn't dare kiss her. Not right now. He didn't want her to think he had any expectations of her. None. Not even to speak.

"You don't have to say anymore," he responded when she opened her mouth to continue. "I understand."

He wished he didn't have to understand. He wished she'd had a different kind of life, a different kind of expectation. It was a terrible, terrible fate her family had left her to. A terrible ordeal to go through. It was a miracle she'd survived. It was a miracle he was still in this room and not hunting down her father for allowing something like that in his only daughter. He hoped he never saw him again, hoped she never had to see him again.

"I just…" she took a deep breath and looked into her again, her panic fading with time. "I just never wanted to know after that. In everything that I'd ever read, the couple had always been in love. I never wanted to know what I'd be missing because I never thought I would be in love, ever, let alone when my time came. I never thought I'd be cared for. It was humiliating enough I didn't want it to be any worse than it was by knowing what I'd be missing.

"But then you came for me, and I was so happy with you, Rumple," she breathed, the smile on her face growing as she swallowed her tears. She was calm again, certain of herself. She was his own, his fighter. "Even in the beginning when I wasn't, some part of me knew I'd been spared that terrible thing. Anything was better than experiencing that. And now we're here, together, like this…but in a way that makes it worse!

"They never wanted me to have this," she muttered to him, closing her eyes and covering one of his hands with her own as if savoring the feeling of his touch. "Never even let me try to have it. They were saving me for something terrible, hoping I'd be ignorant and never know so that on the day I finally did have sex for the first time, I'd never know the difference and think it was perfectly normal.

"But it is different!" she shouted almost angrily. "I might not have anything to compare it to, but I know it's different! I don't feel used with you; I feel loved. And I don't think you've taken anything from me, I feel like I gave you something, and you gave me something of equal value. I don't fear it with you. I want it. I feel like I need it…you! I never thought I'd be in love, but I am! It's so different with you than what they wanted me to experience. I'm so glad you came for me, and I'm so glad that I went with you, and I'm so glad that it was you I was meant for, you with me now. I'm so happy that I'm with someone who loves me!"

He could have cried out in triumph at her proclamation.

"I do, Sweetheart," he muttered, gazing down at her beautiful face. "I do love you, more than you could ever know."

Even if she bore the stains of tears, she was still beautiful to him, maybe even more now than she had been before. His beautiful, intelligent woman…she was right. She might not have had anything to compare this to, but he did. What he had with Milah didn't even come close to what he felt with her. The love they shared-it made a difference.

She began to cry again at his words. There was just as much emotion behind those tears as he felt circling through him. She was happy, but it was also residual leftover from what she'd gone through, tears she'd never been allowed to have before. He loved her bravery and heroics, but he was honored by the fact that she felt she didn't have to be that way around him, thrilled that she felt safe when she was vulnerable. So, he let himself comfort her. He wiped the tears from her cheeks, kissed her forehead, under her tear-stained eyes, being as tender and gentle as he possibly could. And when she didn't pull away, when she held his hand tighter and reached out for him, he gathered her form up in his arms and rolled again so that he held her tight against his chest as she cried.

"You are safe here," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I promise you are safe with me, and you won't ever have to go back to that life. I won't allow it." He wouldn't stand for it. Her father could storm in and demand her; he'd like to see how he fared against him now. He'd never been angrier in his life.

She sniffled and clung tightly to him as her sobs began to subside. "I trust you," she whispered, her voice raw, "I believe you. But Rumple…do we have to stop?" she asked, propping herself up so they could look at each other.

He sighed. "If this is what you want-"

"I do," she insisted. "I want this more than anything. I want you more than anything!"

"No, sweetheart, we don't have to stop..."

He was happy to explain it to her, to tell her the little that he knew, that he understood so that she could feel comfortable. He was happier to lay out options for her and discover that the very same method he and Milah had used to get pregnant could not be relied upon to keep her from getting pregnant.

"We can be old-fashioned, like everyone in our realm is-was. We change nothing about what we're doing and be careful concerning when. From the little I know, a woman cannot get pregnant every day of the month. There is a cycle to it, a rhythm. We can do a bit of reading, some research, find the days we are safe and the days we aren't, and work around it. From what I understand," he added confidently, remembering one happy fact clearly, "there are far more days that we can make love than the days we can't."

She broke into a wide smile suddenly. She liked that option. He did too. And so the next morning, instead of focusing on his desire to find Baelfire, he focused instead on his desire to give her what others in her life never had. Knowledge. He broke into the library across the street and spent the morning finding books. Not for himself but for her. He'd thought about it, of course, about learning himself and telling her what he found out, but he didn't want to talk down to her. He didn't want to have to hear information second-hand or be dependent on him for knowledge that concerned her. After what her family had put her through, she needed a little bit of independence as well as knowledge. So, he'd give it to her.

The books that he found on anatomy, health, and wellness were thick. She wouldn't need to read the entire thing, of course, but he made up his mind that until she had some knowledge and understanding, until she knew more about herself and initiated something on her own, sex would be off the table. Gods, he hoped she was still a fast learner.

He brought the books home with him at lunch and left them when her for the day. When he returned home, he was pleased to find that the house was in the same state as he'd left it. She hadn't cleaned, it appeared, though she had made dinner, all on her own. It was also nice to see her smile brighten when she finally stepped into the hall to greet him. He could see some of the books he'd brought her sitting out in the family room, some marked with little bits of paper, others sitting wide open. She'd spent her afternoon learning. He prayed it was something of value.

"You're happier than normal," he observed as he held her.

She pressed her lips to his neck, and he bit back a shiver as she pulled away. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the shrill beeping of the timer on the oven. She pulled him back to the kitchen with her, and he wondered as he watched her move about, stopping the timer and checking something on the stove. The oven timer…he didn't think he'd taught her to use that. Bright and beautiful, just as she'd always been.

"The books you gave me were helpful, and I read something today, something important," she chatted away as she strained what looked like pasta in the sink. He took a glance down at the table. On one side, she had placemats, silverware, and napkins sitting out that hadn't been set yet, and at the other end, calendars were scattered about. Markings had been made in those calendars that he was positive Mr. Gold had never made, if only because he couldn't make sense of them. He had a suspicion, but he didn't want to assume, so he looked away and found a bottle of wine sitting out.

"What's that?" he questioned amicably, finding the corkscrew to help her set the table for dinner. He didn't quite finish his task, not before he suddenly felt arms, her arms come around his middle, and her head rest gently against his back.

"The Rhythm Method," she whispered.

He nearly sighed in relief. The calendars, the books, her mood…it was exactly what he'd hoped it had been about.

He moved his hands over her own and held her tighter against him. "Tell me about it."

So, she did. She let him go, and they talked as he set the table and she put food on their plates. She talked about everything that she'd learned as they ate. Not just talked. This wasn't chatting. She went on and on about what she'd learned just as animatedly as if she'd taken a day trip to Paris and seen the Eiffel Tower. He'd never known anyone to fall into books the way she did, any book, it appeared.

"I found a calendar upstairs," she went on, reaching for the one at the end of the table that had the strange markings on it. "I charted and counted, I checked and double-checked, remembered everything I could, even through the hazy memories, but I got it right, I'm certain of it!"

"And?"

And suddenly, she broke into a wide grin and laid her hand against his own before tossing away the calendar and leaning over to kiss him. The meaning behind it was clear. They were fine. No risk of pregnancy, at least not tonight. And that meant that if she wanted to, they could-

Her single, happy kiss evolved into something more, something hungry and promising. He'd barely had time to bask in the feeling of it deepening before he heard the scrape of the kitchen chair against the floor, felt her move, and before he knew it, there was a weight in his lap. Her weight. They broke just long enough for him to see that she'd gotten up out of her seat to straddle his waist and could feel her even now winding her arms around his neck and into his hair, and…

Heaven help him, he couldn't have resisted even if he wanted to. She sighed and tipped her head back as he left a trail of kisses down her neck, over the skin at her collar bone and lower, as much as the blouse she was wearing would let him before her fingers called him back to her. She pulled him closer, and he let his hands wander over her as their mouths moved in unison until she pulled away, breaking their kiss but not their embrace, allowing her head to rest upon his own.

They'd been at the dinner table, fully clothed, enjoying a meal, and just like that, he'd forgotten every other need a human body could have...save for one.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, motioning toward the food behind them. She didn't even glance at it as her blush crept up her neck.

"Not anymore."

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #mr. Gold #Belle #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

[just-an-angel-and-his-demon]

It was a bright and early Saturday morning. Crowley had just woken up from his nightly sleep and was just thinking of getting ready for the day when he heard a knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” Crowley asked himself. He certainly wasn’t expecting anyone and it seemed too early for those pesky door-to-door salesmen. He opened the door and smiled. “Aziraphale! What a pleasant surprise.” Crowley said. He leaned against the doorframe and promptly forgot about the fact that he himself wasn’t looking his best. Not that it mattered anyway, this was Aziraphale.

“Yes, erm, I wasn’t expecting to come and see you today either, but we uh, we need to talk.” Crowley cocked his head. The last time Aziraphale had said that had been years ago, when Crowley had first placed the Anitchrist. Crowley knew that there were no major disasters underway, so he couldn’t imagine what the angel wanted. “Can I come in, it’s kind of important.” Crowley stepped out of Aziraphale’s way.

“Of course, you’re always welcome here,” Crowley said. Aziraphale smiled and looked to the floor as he stepped into Crowley’s apartment.

“Is there somewhere we can sit?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley noticed for the first time that Aziraphale was paler than usual. Angels don’t get sick, so this was quite alarming.

“Is everything alright?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale bit his lip.

“I-I’m not sure,” Aziraphale said. That wasn’t the assuring answer that Crowley had been hoping for.

“Has something gone wrong? Have you fallen?” Aziraphale shook his head.

“I’m still one with Heaven,” he assured, though not for much longer, he thought to himself. Crowley led Aziraphale to the other room where he’d gotten a chair just for the sake of Aziraphale. Aziraphale waited for Crowley to sit before sitting down himself.

“What’s up angel?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale took a deep breath.

“Strange things have been happening these last few days,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve been feeling quite ill lately. I’ve never felt ill in my entire life, so I phoned Gabriel just to be sure that everything was alright. He said everything was going to the Plan.” Aziraphale shook his head. “But something was off. I knew it.” Aziraphale took another deep breath. “This morning, I uh expelled my breakfast and just knew something was off. But if it wasn’t off with Heaven, it was something with me.” Aziraphale shook his head. “So I did a check on my body and realized that there was something inside of me.”

“Like a parasite?” Crowley asked, suddenly very confused and concerned. It was one thing for an angel to get sick. It was rare, but it did happen from time to time. To have a parasite would be something completely different. He’d never heard of a parasite that was able to infiltrate an angel’s body and survive the ordeal.

“Not . . . exactly,” Aziraphale said.

“Then what is it?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale bit his lip and grabbed Crowley’s hands. He looked down for a moment, sucked in a breath and looked Crowley in the eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Crowley.” Crowley smiled.

“Congratulations Aziraphale! This is fantastic news!” Crowley said. Aziraphale furrowed his brows. Crowley was taking this a lot better than he’d been expecting him to. “I can’t wait to meet the little bugger,” Crowley said. He placed a hand on Aziraphale’s stomach. “You loved taking care of Warlock and now you’re going to have a little one of your own.” Crowley hugged Aziraphale. “I am so happy for you.”

That’s when it hit Aziraphale. Crowley didn’t know. Crowley thought that you just accidently got pregnant somehow. He didn’t know what the process was. Crowley didn’t realize that the baby was his as well.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “This baby is as much yours as it is mine.” Crowley snorted.

“That baby is mine as much as Iris is Newton’s,” Crowley said. “I’ll be by your side if you want me to, but it is your baby.” Aziraphale laughed at the example.

“You’re right,” Azirapahe said, realizing that there was a lot of explanation that was going to have to go down right now. “This baby is as much yours as Iris is Newton’s. Do you know where babies come from?”

“Yeah, what kind of stupid question is that?” Crowley said. “A woman gets pregnant and she pushes out a baby. It isn’t that hard of a concept. By the way, how does a woman get pregnant? I’ve always wondered, but all I could find when I Googled it was porn. Now that you’re there, you must be an expert.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, unable to believe that he was about to explain the birds and the bees to a 6,000 year old demon. “There are these things in a woman called eggs. In order for an egg to become fertilized to become a baby, she needs something called sperm. Sperm comes from a man.” Crowley tensed.

“How? Who did this to you? I will find him and I will-”

“You did, Crowley,” Aziraphale said.

“How? I didn’t-” Aziraphale sighed.

“Yes you did. You didn’t do it on purpose, but you did. A woman gets sperm from a man when the two of them have sex.”

“Wait so Anathema and Newton-”

“Yes. And that’s how Iris came about.” Crowley shuddered.

“I thought that was for leisure,” Crowley said. Aziraphale shrugged.

“It can be,” he said. “But when a person with a penis and a person with a vagina are involved, you run the risk of, well,” he gestured to his stomach. “Babies get made.”

“So is that why there’s no more unicorns?”

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said sadly.

“Oh,” Crowley said, realizing it was his own fault that his favorite animal went extinct. He stayed silent for a few minutes and Aziraphale let him go through his thoughts. This was a lot to think about. Crowley was getting all kinds of new information today and it wasn’t even ten AM just yet. Aziraphale was just going to be ready to answer any questions Crowley had. “So this really happened that one time?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale nodded.

“You asked what it was like. I went a little far in preparing the body. I didn’t even think about the risk.” Aziraphale shook his head. “I’m so stupid,” He said. “It usually doesn’t happen the first time, but this time it did.”

“What happens when head office finds out?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale shook his head. He’d been thinking about that all day. He wasn’t sure what exactly would happen. This was a strange situation, surely one that no one else had ever found themselves in. Angels and demons generally didn’t go native and try for the full human experience like Aziraphale and Crowley had over the last few years. But he knew that they wouldn’t be happy. Both of them ran the risk of being heavily punished once their respective head offices found out. He wasn’t sure what more they could do, they had already tried to exterminate them and that hadn’t worked. But he knew that neither Heaven or Hell would sit back and do nothing.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said. “And I don’t want them finding out,” he said.

“What do we do then?” Crowley asked. “You very well can’t hide out until the baby is born. You still have a job to do.” Crowley thought about how much weight Anathema had gained while she had been pregnant and how utterly useless she had been towards the end (which, of course, Newton had been ok with covering for her). “And there’s the weight, you can’t just hide-”

“Don’t you think I already know that Crowley!” Aziraphale shook his head. “We can’t do this. I can’t.” Aziraphale put his face in his hands. He mumbled some more, probably more about how this was a mistake, but Crowley didn’t hear it.

“We’ll figure this out together,” Crowley said. He wrapped his arm around the angel and pulled him towards his chest. “It will be ok.”

Aziraphale knew the words didn’t mean anything. There was no way that Crowley would know that. He was a demon, not a fortune teller. The only person who could actually read the future was God, for she had written it. Agnus Nutter had been a strange exception to the rule. Still, he allowed himself to find comfort in it anyway.

***

A few months went by and nothing happened. Crowley and Aziraphale dared to relax. They had figured that if they were going to be caught, it would have happened by then. They relaxed enough to eventually announce the news to all of their human friends. None of them understood the consequences of what would happen if Heaven or Hell were to find out about the whole thing.

Aziraphale continued his assignments where he could. In the beginning, that had ended up being most of them. Ever since the world didn’t end, Aziraphale had been given small tasks. No one in Heaven trusted him with the big jobs after he had stopped the end. But they couldn’t just leave him with nothing. Which left Aziraphale in a good place. On the rare occasion that he couldn’t take care of something for himself for any reason, Crowley was more than happy to take care of it instead. Head office didn’t particularly care how a job got done, just that it got done.

The bright side of this was it gave both Aziraphale and Crowley plenty of free time to be able to prepare for the arrival. They made up a nursery. Crowley allowed Aziraphale to have it done mostly his way. Aziraphale was, after all, the one who was carrying the baby and therefore should be the one to get to pick, for the most part. Crowley would surprise Aziraphale with gifts, sometimes for himself, but others for the baby. Anathema and Newton also helped them along as much as Crowley would allow them to get involved.

The first time he felt the baby kick, Aziraphale cried. The baby ended up being quite feisty, keeping Aziraphale up at all hours of the night and occasionally getting a kick in the day. But he was ok with this. That was at least confirmation that the baby had to be ok. Besides, the baby was half demon. It was going to have something of demonic tendencies. Crowley sometimes wished that there was a way for them to switch off on pregnancy duty so that for once the angel could sleep through the night (which normally wasn’t necessary for demons or angels, but ever since becoming pregnant, it seemed that Aziraphale actually required sleep). Instead, Crowley became fascinated with feeling the baby move whenever he could. Other times, he liked to sit and watch the baby move. It seemed alien, but Aziraphale insisted that humans could sometimes see the baby move in the womb too.

Everything was going great. That is until Gabriel decided to pay a visit to the bookstore.

✽✽✽

“Hello Aziraphale!” Gabriel called as he entered the building. Crowley cursed. Aziraphale had reached a point that a visit from Gabriel would raise questions. Lots of them. He put a hand on Aziraphale’s stomach.

“I’ll be ok,” Aziraphale whispered. “Just go.” Crowley shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you with him.” Aziraphale could hear Gabriel getting closer to the back room, where they usually met when Gabriel sprung a visit on him.

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll take care of it.” Crowley looked Aziraphale in the eyes, nodded and slipped out the back door just in time for Gabriel to walk in.

“Is that any way to greet an archangel?” Gabriel said. “You may not do much, but you still answer to me.” Gabriel shook his head.

“Ah, yes, sorry Gabriel,” Aziraphale said. “I was busy with a, erm, customer. I was busy with a customer,” Aziraphale felt the burn of the guilt of lying, but he didn’t let it show.

“Whatever,” Gabriel said. “I just came to check in on-” his eyes settled on Aziraphale’s stomach. He looked back up to Aziraphale. Aziraphale braced for the coming questions. “Man, you have gotten fat, haven't you?”

“I suppose I have,” Aziraphale said, putting one hand on his bump. “I hadn’t noticed,” he said.

“Which is why you should lay off of the human food. You don’t know the effects of food on a celestial body.” Aziraphale was quite aware of the effects, and he was positive that he knew more than Gabriel did. However, Gabriel thinking that his weight gain was due to food would only do him favors.

“What do you want, Gabriel?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley, in snake form, had snuck back into the room. He didn’t trust Gabriel in the slightest. Much less around his pregnant angel. He wanted to be there when things eventually went wrong. Aziraphale was instantly aware that Crowley had snuck back in, but he didn’t acknowledge him. Gabriel didn’t need to know that Crowley was there.

“Just to see how you were doing. You and your new life.” Gabriel shrugged. “Isn’t it enough to want to check in on you?” Aziraphale repressed the urge to shake his head and say “not for you it isn’t.” He knew there was another reason. There had to be. Gabriel hated Earth. He would only visit if he wanted or needed something. “And you seem to have gone downhill.” Gabriel lightly punched Aziraphale in the stomach. Aziraphale knew that Crowley was about to strike, so he stepped on his tail to restrain him without letting Gabriel know he was there if he didn’t already know. Gabriel’s face twisted in confusion. “That’s not fat,” he said curiously. Crowley hissed, turning Gabriel’s attention to him. Aziraphale let off Crowley’s tail so he could change back.

“Lay off, would ya?” Crowley said.

“Ah, Crowley,” Gabriel said. “Just the demon I wanted to see.” His eyes went back to Aziraphale for a moment, but he quickly refocused on Crowley. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“I am not going to do anything for you,” Crowley said. He reached for Aziraphale’s hand and squeezed. “I have nothing to gain from you.” Gabriel looked to Crowley’s hand with distaste.

“Maybe not,” Gabriel said. “But you have everything to lose.” Gabriel shrugged. “Just one call is all it would take to get Aziraphale sent back to Heaven forever.” Crowley opened his mouth as if to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. He knew Gabriel was right. He could also imagine the terrible things that they would do to Aziraphale. He didn’t want his angel to have to deal with that.

“What do you want?”

“I need you to do a little temptation for me, will you?” Gabriel asked sweetly, as if he was giving Crowley a choice. A move Crowley himself had invented.

“What needs done?” Crowley asked. Gabriel shrugged.

“Nothing too big,” Gabriel said. “Just the Antichrist.”

“What about him?”

“He’s too, well, good. The way he’s going he is going to end up in Heaven, and we can’t have that. I just want you to sabotage him. Fill his mind with dirt. Claim his soul for Hell.” Crowley shook his head. Gabriel pulled out a device that Crowley could only assume was Heaven’s version of a phone. “One call,” he reminded him. Crowley sighed.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” Crowley said through gritted teeth.

“Good,” Gabriel said. “That’s all I wanted.” He looked over to Aziraphale one more time. Or rather, he looked at Aziraphale’s stomach. “Until next time!” With that, Gabriel disappeared.

***

Gabriel couldn’t stop thinking about it. He knew that Aziraphale liked food. It was one of the many qualities that made Gabriel hate him. He’d hoped that it was enough to force him to fall, but God had other plans and wouldn’t let Gabriel fill out the forms. Anyone else and someone as gluttonous as Aziraphale would have been forced to leave Heaven a long time ago. He also knew that sometimes humans got hard when they got fat. It was just usual physics.

What he didn’t know, however, was why something in Aziraphale had moved. That just wasn’t a thing that happened. Not naturally anyway. But Aziraphale had ignored it as it was normal. Gabriel knew that there was no way that Aziraphale hadn’t felt it too. He had to get to the bottom of it.

Aziraphale was hiding something, but he wasn’t exactly sure of what.

***

“Crowley, he knows. He knows,” Aziraphale said after a few beats of silence.

“How could he know? He was telling you to lay off food. He just thinks you’re a glutton. A dirty, dirty glutton,” Crowley had dropped his voice and he kissed Aziraphale. Aziraphale shook his head.

“When he punched it, the baby moved,” Aziraphale said. Crowley shook his head.

“He didn’t touch it long enough to notice the movement, I’m sure,” Crowley said.

“But did you see how he looked at it?” Aziraphale shook his head. “He knows, Crowley. He knows.” Crowley had noticed that Gabriel had seen it. He also noticed as Gabriel mentally questioned what it was. What he could say for sure was that Gabriel didn’t know a thing about it. He was an archangel with no experience on Earth. There was no way that he even knew what pregnancy was, let alone how to recognize it. Gabriel could be suspicious all he wanted, but he didn’t actually know the truth. He put a hand over Aziraphale’s bump.

“Even if on some chance he does know something, I’m not going to let him have you.” This, for some reason, made Aziraphale relax even though he knew that if God got involved there would be nothing Crowley could do. And with a case like this, God would certainly want to get involved. That is just how she worked. Something about the thought of Crowley protecting him made him feel warm inside.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aziraphale had been pushed into the same anxiety that he’d felt at the beginning of the pregnancy. Crowley felt the same way, but he tried to keep the angel calm. He’d read somewhere that anxiety could do detrimental things to a baby. Of course, it had been talking about humans, but he figured that it probably wasn’t good on this one either.

He pushed Aziraphale to sleep most of the time, or at least as much as he could. If Aziraphale was asleep, he wasn’t going to be worried. Aziraphale needed the rest anyway. Crowley insisted that everything was going to be ok, even though he was unable to believe the words himself.

All the while, Gabriel was hard at work trying to figure out what Aziraphale was hiding. He started at the very start of the time since Armegedon’t. There was years of stuff to go through. And he didn’t want to miss a single one of Aziraphale’s mistakes. He needed proof that Aziraphale was a bit of a fallen angel and deserved to be a fully fallen angel.

He shut himself in and wouldn’t let anyone know what he was working on. He wanted full credit when Aziraphale’s halo fell. Besides, if you wanted a job done, it had to be done right.

After a month of hearing nothing from Heaven, Aziraphale allowed himself to relax a little bit. Not too much, but just enough that he wasn’t spending his whole life an anxious mess. Right now, that was Crowley’s job, and he was going to allow him to do that.

Aziraphale began chatting happily to the baby and it warmed Crowley up every time he heard Aziraphale’s soft voice whispering to the baby about how much he loved them and how much he couldn’t wait to meet them. Aziraphale tried various names out on the baby, but never ended up sticking with any of them. Crowley made a few suggestions as well, but neither of them fell in love with the name.

Before either of them were aware of it, they had come across the final few weeks before the baby would arrive. The pair made all of the final preparations, including finishing up stocking the baby’s wardrobe and other small supplies that Anathema and Newton had recommended to them. They were getting more excited by the day and they hadn’t heard from either Heaven or Hell in a long time. That was fine by them. In fact, it was perfect.

✽✽✽

“I need to speak with God,” Gabriel said.

“I am the Metatron, anything that is said to me is said to God.” Gabriel sighed but decided it wasn’t worth the argument.

“It is about Aziraphale,” Gabriel said. “I have reason to believe that he is pregnant.” The Metatron didn’t seem surprised by this. “I believe it belongs to the demon Crowley.”

“Yes, of course,” The Metatron said. “Who else would it belong to?” Gabriel hated that the Metatron was brushing him off.

“He’s an angel. He can’t just have the baby of a demon.”

“Times are changing, Gabriel.” The Metatron said before disappearing, having had enough of Gabriel’s constant whining about Aziraphale.

Most other angels would have dropped it. If God herself didn’t think that it was a big deal, then it wasn’t a big deal. Gabriel, however, wasn’t most other angels. He had tried to exterminate the angel without God’s permission. Why would he need God’s permission now? He didn’t, however, know exactly what he was going to do with the angel. Something had to be done. But they obviously couldn’t kill him. Perhaps he should make true of his threats, even though Crowley, as far as Gabriel knew, had made true of his promise of the Antichrist.

God didn’t deal with the lowly criminals.

***

Crowley always hated leaving Aziraphale at night. However, he had to. There was a party that Adam Young was choosing to miss out on that night. A party that would for sure cause Adam’s soul to go to Hell as Gabriel believed it should. Crowley didn’t want to sentence the kid to an eternity in Hell, but he wanted even less to spend eternity without Aziraphale. Some sacrifices just had to be made.

Aziraphale was sound asleep. Crowley was afraid to touch him, as not to wake him. It was the first time that Aziraphale had been able to fall into a deep sleep in a long time. A deep sleep that he desperately needed. Crowley whispered his goodbye and blew a kiss to the angel, knowing good and well that Aziraphale would never even realize he’d done it. He just felt bad leaving the angel without at least saying goodbye.

Crowley, as usual, was successful in his temptation. Mostly. He didn’t try as hard on this one because it was Adam. Adam didn’t deserve what was to come of him. But he was successful enough that Gabriel should be satisfied with the work. Adam was, in fact, going to be destined for Hell. That he knew for sure.

Crowley quietly slipped back into the bedroom. As soon as he looked over to the bed, he realized that Aziraphale was gone. He didn’t panic at first. He’d assumed that Aziraphale had only gotten up to go to the bathroom, but something in him told him that was wrong.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley called. When Aziraphale didn’t answer, Crowley became more panicked. “Aziraphale!” Crowley ran back to the bedroom to look for a clue as to where he had gone, but he already knew the answer.

Gabriel had figured out their secret.

***

When Aziraphale woke up, he instantly knew he wasn’t at home. The light was much too bright for their bedroom and his hands were tied together. Something he knew for sure that Crowley would never do without Aziraphale knowing about it first. He brought his hand to his stomach, relieved to find the bump was still there.

He looked around the room. He knew he had to be in Heaven. But he didn’t know where. He had never seen the room before, though he could tell that it had been designed to host criminals.

“Hello Aziraphale.” Aziraphale turned to where the voice came from but couldn’t see anything. However, he knew it was Gabriel. “Did you think that you would be able to hide forever?”

“H-hide? Whatever are you talking about?” Aziraphale asked even though he knew exactly what Gabriel was talking about. Aziraphale instinctively hunched over to try and make it harder for Gabriel to reach the baby.

“I think you know what I’m talking about.” Gabriel suddenly appeared before him. He forced Aziraphale’s hands away and forced him to sit up. Gabriel cupped Aziraphale’s stomach. Aziraphale tried to smack Gabriel away but Gabriel had done some sort of miracle to keep Aziraphale’s hands suspended above his head. Gabriel smirked. “That demon, he’s given you a child, hasn’t he?” Aziraphale pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to speak. To admit it would give Gabriel ammunition against himself and against Crowley. To openly admit it would put Crowley in danger. If he wasn’t already.

What had happened while he’d been sleeping?

“Don’t worry, Aziraphale, Hell doesn’t know,” Gabriel said. “Crowley is fine. For now. We couldn’t find him.” Crowley had left me, Aziraphale thought with alarm, he knew Gabriel was becoming suspicious. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say. Gabriel clearly knew everything he needed to know, and Heaven had collected him for his punishment. Gabriel took a few more steps, the sound of his shoes against the floor made a sound similar to thunder. A tactic he was using to try to intimidate Aziraphale.

“What do you want from us?” Aziraphale asked. “You already demanded that Crowley force a child, a child, to give up his rightful spot in Heaven. What else do you want?” A pain happened that Aziraphale had never experienced before. Oh good Lord, not here, he silently begged, hoping God would hear his prayer.

“I want you to not have the baby.”

“It’s a little bit late for that,” Aziraphale said. Gabriel shrugged.

“You’re an angel. At any moment you had the power to end this thing’s life. I want you to do that now.” Aziraphale shook his head. Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “No?” Gabriel smiled. “No. Aziraphale, do you know what happens when you tell an archangel no?” Gabriel was about to say something else, but he suddenly looked away from Aziraphale with a shocked look on his face. When he looked back to Aziraphale, he regained his composure. “He’s here.”

Aziraphale didn’t have to ask. He knew that Gabriel had meant Crowley.

A few moments later, Crowley appeared in the room, much in the same way that Gabriel had. Gabriel huffed, glared at Aziraphale, and stormed over to Crowley. This room was specifically built to be hidden. There was no way on any planet, in Heaven, or in Hell that a lowly demon like Crowley had found it all on his own. God herself didn’t even know the room existed. Crowley had no reason to be there.

“Aziraphale,” He said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry Aziraphale I shouldn’t have-” Gabriel was now standing over Crowley. He had made himself slightly taller as to try and make Crowley afraid of him. It didn’t work. “Hello Gabriel,” he said casually. “Have you heard the news? Exciting, isn’t it?” Crowley tried to walk around Gabriel and get to Aziraphale, but Gabriel blocked his path. Another contraction hit Aziraphale, this one stronger than the last. Crowley looked up at Gabriel. “What have you done to him?”

“What? Nothing. Not yet,” Gabriel said. Gabriel glared over his shoulder at Aziraphale, who had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply, more focused on the fact that this baby was probably coming, and coming soon, than the fact that he was tied up and was currently Gabriel’s prisoner. “What makes you think I’ve-” Crowley froze Gabriel in place. He had never done this on an angel before and he didn’t know how long it would hold, so he had to work fast when getting Aziraphale out of there.

“Can you miracle these away?” Crowley asked, unsure if he was going to be able to do it himself. Aziraphale shook his head.

“The baby’s coming,” Aziraphale whispered. He didn’t know what Gabriel could hear in the state the Crowley’d put him in, but he didn’t want Gabriel to know that fact. Crowley’s eyes widened and he put his hand on Aziraphale’s stomach.

“Are you sure?”

“Not positive,” Aziraphale said. He squeezed his eyes shut as another contraction rolled over him. Crowley squeezed his hand. “But I think it’s a pretty good guess.” Crowley nodded. He looked back at Gabriel who, miraculously, was still frozen in place. Crowley closed his eyes and thought about the miracle it would take to get Aziraphale out of the handcuffs. He would be all on his own when the miracles were happening. Bringing life into the world was a miracle on its own, and Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to perform another until after the baby had arrived.

Suddenly, the cuffs released and Aziraphale tried to stand. When he failed, Crowley helped to pull him up, already feeling the effects of pulling too many miracles at once. Aziraphale stumbled forward a few steps, but Crowley was able to catch him. Aziraphale smiled, but a moment later the smile faltered. Crowley knew that this was happening now and fast.

He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and pulled, urging the angel to move as quickly as he could (which wasn’t very fast, as not only was he pregnant, but he was in the early stages of labor). Soon, they were out of the room and rushing down the way that Crowley had come. Rushing as quickly as Aziraphale could. They were nearly there when an angel that Crowley did not recognize stopped them.

“Demon! What are you doing here?” Crowley Quickly placed himself between Aziraphale and this mysterious angel.

“Hey, it is not my fault Gabriel kidnapped Aziraphale. Someone had to come rescue him.” Crowley heard Aziraphale’s breath hitch. He reached back so that Aziraphale could have Crowley’s hand. Aziraphale squeezed it. “So if you’ll just let us go we’ll be out-”

“I can’t let you do that,” the angel said. Crowley cursed. It was going to take another miracle to get out of here. Another miracle on an angel.

“Why not?” Crowley asked. “Do you know who we are?” Crowley crossed the fingers on his free hand hoping that the angel would go with this and he wouldn’t actually have to perform another miracle. The angel looked over Crowley and shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. I need the two of you to come with me.” Crowley cursed. He didn’t have the advantage of them knowing what had happened to the two of them. Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand so hard it felt as if he had cut the circulation off of Crowley’s fingers. Crowley turned, ignoring the other angel for the moment.

“Everything is going to be ok,” Crowley whispered to Aziraphale. “Everything is alright.” He placed a kiss on the angel’s head and ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. “It will be over soon.” Aziraphale nodded, refusing to let go of Crowley’s hand. Crowley turned back around to face the other angel, but he had already been frozen in place. Crowley smiled, surprised that he’d even been able to manage it a second time. He turned and pulled Aziraphale the rest of the way down the hallway.

***

“Just look at her, Aziraphale!” Crowley said. He’d just gotten back from cleaning her up and handed their newborn daughter to Aziraphale. “She’s perfect.” Aziraphale smiled as the tears began pouring down his face. She was, after all, the best thing Aziraphale could have hoped for. Nothing else mattered anymore, just him and his daughter. Crowley looked at the mess that had been made trying to get her out of Aziraphale and sighed. Normally he would just miracle it away, but he didn’t have it in him. He’d performed the two biggest miracles he had ever done and been there the whole time Aziraphale was performing his miracle, providing strength as he could.

“She’s got your eyes,” Aziraphale whispered. He looked up to Crowley and Crowley placed a hand on their daughter’s back. He gently rubbed it and smiled. She was finally here. They’d been waiting for her for so long, and she was here. Within a few minutes, Aziraphale fell asleep. Crowley smiled and scooped the baby up. She, too, had fallen asleep. He cooed at her anyway, careful to stay quiet enough that neither Aziraphale or their new baby would wake.

Now that she was here, there was going to be a whole new set of challenges when it came to her. Gabriel already knew about her and would surely tell Beelzebub as soon as he got the chance.

But at that moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting some well-deserved rest.

#aziracrow #aziraley #aziraphale #azirowley #crowley #good omens #good omens fandom #good omens fic #aziraphale and crowley #crowley and aziraphale #pregnant Aziraphale

[the-general-hux]

@finishwhxtyoustartxd

Armitage Hux rested his forehead against the cool glass of the passenger side window. His parents had stopped talking hours ago, his mother was asleep in the front seat and his father was driving with white-knuckled fingers crimped around the steering wheel. Hux shared the backseat with luggage that wouldn’t fit in the trunk of their rental sedan. His knees pressed against the back of the driver’s seat and he longed for chance to stretch out his legs. His eyes blinked open and shut as he looked out the window at the endless procession of trees.

Traffic slowed down and his father spat out a string of curses at the other drivers’ abilities to keep stopping distance on the rain slick road. The air smelled damp, even through the filter of the air conditioning. A small town appeared and a sign declared it Bayport. Perhaps the settlers had never heard of redundancy, Hux thought. A smiling whale spouted a flourish of water on the sign. Hux gritted his teeth and put in his headphones.

Tourists crossed the highway, oblivious to oncoming traffic and the increasing frequency of his father’s cursing. A bead shop. Souvenirs. Weed shop. Rinse and repeat. Hux caught a glimpse of some amazing biceps in front of a coffee shop and he wrenched his neck to see if the potential face matched the muscles, but his father turned a corner and Hux lost his sight line. He huffed out a sigh. Probably just a tourist, maybe one of those bikers that cruised up and down the Oregon coast. Doing what? Whale-watching?

They pulled into a driveway that was marked with a jaunty lighthouse, Driftwood Cove. They named the rental house. Of course they did. His father stopped the car, turned off the ignition and announced. “This is our home for the next month. Let’s try to not kill each other.”

“No promises.” Hux said and his mother shot him a warning look. “Fine. You work on your book, you work on your paintings and I’ll work on growing a thick coat of mildew.”

“Now darling, it’s not that bad. The ocean air is marvelous for my health and I only have so much time with you before you go off to college and leave me behind.”

Forty two days, six hours and twelve minutes, Hux thought as he got out of the car. He sighed again and nodded because that was what you did when your sick mother guilt tripped you. This wasn’t his idea of a beach holiday. The sky was painted in shades of blue and gray, the whole landscape looked angry and battered into submission by the relentless coastal wind. Then he turned to the ocean. There was a haze covering the entire Pacific Ocean, as far as he could squint. “Twelve hours in the car and I can’t even see the fucking water.”

Hux claimed the room at the very top of the rental, it had a window overlooking the ocean and a stupid sign. “The Crow’s Nest.” He dragged his luggage up the stairs. The whole room smelled musty and forgotten. He sat down on the edge of the queen bed and flopped backwards, staring at the rafters. There was no need for a bed this big in such a small space— Hux scrunched his face up in disgust. Do not think about how many people have had sex in your bed, just don’t. That way lies madness, Hux thought. I am not going to look under the mattress pad.

“Boy!” His father hollered up the stairs, “Come help your mother with her junk!” Hux blew out the breath he was holding and descended the stairs.

It started to rain.

It continued to rain for three days. Drops splattered on the window panes and wind shrieked through the eaves. Hux made a bet with himself about how soon the roof would fly off. It was even money. He curled up on the bed, surrounded by fifteen decorative pillows that some poor soul had embroidered with seagulls and a two year old copy of People magazine. He’d read it cover to cover three times. Cellular service was complete shit and WiFi was apparently an alien concept in rustic vacation rentals. His father’s laptop had not survived the road trip and Hux’s had been commandeered, so no jerking off to his carefully curated archived amateur Alpha porn. The television downstairs had a dial to change the channels. All three channels.

“I’m going to start talking to myself. I am. I’m going to start talking to myself and go find a great white whale to have a battle to the death with. Honestly, it’s inevitable.” He could go talk to his parents. See what they were doing— Hux shook his head. Mother was sleeping, exhausted from her medication and Father was writing. He could write for days at a time, eating what was brought to him and pissing in a milk jug by his desk. He had a bestselling series, it was Regency romance of all things and the royalties were sending Hux to a very good school.

“Yet another thing for me to grateful for.” Hux told a decorative seahorse on the wall. “I have to get out of here. I have to.” He grabbed his coat and one of the guest umbrellas from the hallway. “I’m going out!” He called to his father who grunted in response and waved him off.

Hux made his way down the driveway towards the town center. He paused in front of the map of the town, drawn in a cartoon fashion that made the library and the police station look like equally jaunty places to visit. His sneakers squelched with wetness as he made his way to the coffee shop. It seemed like ages ago that he’d caught a glimpse of those glorious biceps. Everyone was wearing shapeless polar fleece and practical galoshes that he coveted with an practical intensity he’d never truly felt before.

He ordered a hot milky tea, something to chase the cold away from his bones and wrapped his fingers around it. “It's June,” he reminded himself and the counter girl smiled at him and then at his Omega Pride lapel pin. “It really is June, isn’t it?”

“It usually clears up by now. It’s not so bad. Just remember to take your vitamin D pills until the sun comes out again.” She pulled another shot of espresso after that bit of unsolicited advice. Hux pushed his sopping wet shock of red hair out of his face. He was not a natural sun worshipper, but the next time he saw the sun even he might offer up a few prayers of gratitude.

Hux wandered over to the small shelf of used books that lined the back wall. A hand lettered sign read, “Lending Library”.  Out of habit, he looked for his father’s name on the spines of the books. Only one volume this time. The fourth. Savage Unbroken Hearts. Hux couldn’t read his father’s writing, it was far too intimate an act. It was worse than the time his father had walked in on Hux taking a selfie, wearing glitter and a rainbow thong. Hux cringed at the memory and selected a paperback space opera that boasted about galactic conquest. He sat down at a table and thumbed through the yellowed pulpy pages. The previous owner had scrawled his name in childish block letters on the interior cover. Ben.

The counter girl gave him a plastic bag for the book and Hux stepped out into the rain. It wasn’t going to defeat him. “You hear me?” Hux muttered to the weather as he made his way down the boardwalk. He rolled his eyes at the tiny salon and a candy store that was only open on the weekend. He paused in front of a photograph studio that specialized in pirate portraits. Skywalker Studios. Tourists grinned in tawdry costumes and posed in front of pirate flags. Rain dripped from the tip of Hux’s nose and he snorted in disdain. There was a 90% chance that his mother would drag them all in here for a souvenir portrait.

The beach access stairwell was just beyond the photography studio and Hux gripped the guardrail as he wrestled with both the slippery seagull shit smeared steps and the wind that threatened to steal his umbrella. The ocean was surging, the tide rolling in. Hux stared out at the dark, seething waters and felt begrudging respect for the power and intensity of the storm. Also for the warning signs posted all over the beach. Rolling logs that could kill you. Rip tides. Sneaker waves. Tsunamis. This was not the ocean that was in the brochures. Icy spray hit him in the face and he blinked saltwater from his lashes.

There was a man strolling along the pebbled beach. Long dark hair whipped around his head. What kind of Alpha bullshit was this? It was a stereotype of course, but the only person who would have the sheer ballsy stupid confidence to be walking on that beach would be an Alpha. A shameful thrill trilled up the back of Hux’s neck and he tasted the salt on his own lips.

The man reached the stairwell and as he ascended, Hux hid behind his Driftwood Cove umbrella. The man paid him no mind as he passed, Hux peeked out from beneath the umbrella shade. He swallowed hard as he caught the hint of a defined, youthful jawline, speckled with interesting moles that reminded Hux of constellations. The man unlocked the door to Skywalker Studios, stepped inside and flipped on the OPEN neon sign.

Oh god dammit. He wasn’t going to follow that weirdo guy, no matter how broad his shoulders were, no matter how bored Hux was, no matter— he stood on the steps of the photography studio and pushed open the door.

A bell jingled announcing Hux’s presence as he folded up his umbrella in the entry way. “Just a moment!” A deep voice called out from behind a curtain. “Be right out!’

Hux looked at the puddle of rain water accumulating around his feet and he flushed with embarrassment. He glanced to the side at a mirror for the tourists to check their costumes. His hair was plastered to his head, water dripped from his ears. No, no, no this was a mistake—

The broad-shouldered stranger walked out in a muscle baring tank top, drying his hair with a towel. The lack of fabric made one thing painfully clear to Hux’s libido. This was the owner of the Glorious Biceps. He wrapped the towel around his hair in a makeshift turban and looked at Hux. For a long moment, the Alpha’s plush pink mouth fell open as he took in the bedraggled, soaked ginger making a mess of his shop floor. If the Earth could open up and swallow me whole right now, that would be just dandy, Hux thought. He turned to leave.

[satonthelotuspier]

Day 7 of Xichengclipse is here, and we’re almost done!

This turned a little away form the original concept into wanting to explore how societal pressures affect JC's notion of himself. He has this role he has to play in canon, especially young jc, the sect heir, the more sensible one to WWX's shenanigans, and I wonder if he ever found that stifling. I wanted to take a look at what that might mean in a different verse. 

Lotus Lakes In Spring

Lan Xichen has suddenly started working late every night, and Jiang Cheng, insecure at the best of times, is imagining the worst. Although he had thought they had developed feelings for each other theirs was still a match of convenience, tying to powerful families together, and perhaps he's has enough of Jiang Cheng.

How far away from the truth is he? His therapist suggests there's only one way to find out - communication in relationships is key.

Featuring a JC struggling with societal expectations and his own nature, and a misunderstood LXC who's taking some matters into his own hands.

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng assured, except it really wasn’t. It wasn’t fine. They hadn’t spent any time together for weeks because Lan Xichen had been working constantly, and this afternoon was just another call to excuse himself from dinner, because he’d be working at the office until into the evening again.

It was a herculean effort, but he killed the needy keen in his voice; an omega begging for attention from his mate might sound cute in theory, but Jiang Cheng hated that he was so weak to the natural reaction.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow evening then, I have to be up early for a conference across town, so I need to go to bed early tonight.” He didn’t sound terribly pathetic, but it was a close thing.

“Sleep well, Wanyin, I’ll be quiet when I get in, so that I don’t wake you.”

He could feel the wetness behind his eyes, but worked hard to keep it out of his voice.

“Thank you, Xichen.”

With a few more pleasantries they ended the call, and Jiang Cheng stared at the bright-screened mobile in his hand.

Was Lan Xichen growing bored of him? Their relationship was complicated, no doubt, it wasn’t any secret that their match had been a power move, two of the biggest families in Suzhou, united in an act of politically motivated showmanship.

But Jiang Cheng had thought they had come to care for each other, despite neither having been the other’s choice. Lan Xichen was a kind and caring man, and an attentive alpha mate, and Jiang Cheng tried his best to be a good omega. Despite his quick temper, neediness, and easily embarrassed nature, he did try to be as good to his alpha as Lan Xichen was to him.

Perhaps with mixed results.

And that must be why the other was pulling away, having had enough of having to pander to him, to address the flaws in his character, and yes, in his body.

Jiang Cheng whined low in his throat, as he acknowledged the white elephant in the room. It must be, in part, because their matings hadn’t taken yet. Despite numerous heats shared together, he had yet to become pregnant. He was failing in an omega’s most basic function, and powerful dynasties, like the families they both came from, required heirs, and he wasn’t providing.

What was the point in bringing an omega into the family if he couldn’t breed?

Lan Xichen said it didn’t matter, things would happen in their own time, but that was just Lan Xichen, being nice, paying lip service. If it wasn’t an issue why was it in every gossip magazine? Every tabloid newspaper?

Taunting headlines about separate bedrooms and a lack of intimacy between the Lan heir and the Jiang heir, married for convenience, to further two powerhouses of political and economic might, but cold and distant with each other.

Until a few weeks ago they couldn’t have been further from the truth, he had fallen asleep in his husband’s arms every night, and they shared a full and mutually satisfying sex life, even outside of his heat cycles.

He was assured by the specialists he had consulted that there was no physical reason for it, that everything was in perfect working order; Lan Xichen had even supported him, attended the appointments with him, even submitted himself to a physical examination and tests to ensure there was no problems on his side either.

Jiang Cheng had been pleased to find that out that the kidnapping he had suffered as a young adult had left him with no lingering effects other than a pervasive fear of the dark.

Which meant it was him. He wasn’t broken medically, he was just broken.

Had Lan Xichen gone back to the lover he had stopped seeing in readiness for their marriage? Had he finally had enough of a mate that didn’t provide the things he should?

Who could blame him? Maybe these were the first tentative steps towards divorce?

He unlocked his phone and dialled.

“Wen Qing, can I talk to you?”

“I’m not your therapist, A-Cheng.”

“Your monthly invoice says differently. You’re damned expensive for someone who isn’t,” he snapped, and she snorted.

“I have a client in half an hour, but I’ll give you a call before I go home. It will be around five, alright?”

He agreed and they hung up.

***

He tried to process her advice that night as he lay in the bath he had taken to try and relax a little. The gist of their conversation had said he could drive himself silly with the what ifs, the suppositions, and the only way he’d get any closure on the issue was to ask Lan Xichen directly.

And that he should also talk to the other about his needs, that he missed the other and wanted attention.

Out of the two, Jiang Cheng thought the latter was the least likely to pass his lips. How pathetic would it make him seem to be begging his own husband for attention?

He was that pathetic though, he really, really wanted to.

He bathed, changed for bed, and, ensuring the small lamp near his side of the bed was on, settled down to sleep in a bed that seemed all too empty, because Lan Xichen wasn’t in it beside him.

***

It must have been the sound of the thunder that awoke him, as he shot upright in bed, and began to panic. The room was pitch dark, and he felt his chest tightening and his breathing speeding to shallow pants in immediate reaction to the darkness. He mewled; a lost child. It was oppressive, and closing in on him ever faster.

“Wanyin?” Lan Xichen’s voice sounded, clear and soothing by his ear. “Damn.” There was some scrabbling around, then a flare of light in the darkness. “Here, take this, baby.” Lan Xichen’s phone, with the torch function on full, was pressed into his shaking hands, and he waved it wildly around the room, checking in the shadows while the other gave him space to ensure he was safe.

Eventually he calmed enough to accept Lan Xichen’s arms around him, as he was pulled into the other’s lap and hugged tightly.

“You’re safe, sweetness, you’re safe here with me.” Lan Xichen kept up the steady, soft, stream of reassurance, stroking his hair and kissing wherever his lips landed until Jiang Cheng regained some measure of control over himself.

He didn’t have quite enough to control his tongue, however, “Don’t leave me, Xichen, please don’t leave me. I’m trying so hard to be better for you. I am.”

The stroking hand paused, then slid to his shoulders and held him away from Lan Xichen’s chest so the other could look at him, “What do you mean, Wanyin? Of course I’m not going to leave you, I know you don’t like the dark, it’s not a surprise to me. I’ll hold you until dawn or the power comes back on. I don’t mind.”

“B-but you’re avoiding me. You’re staying at work all the time now, like you don’t want to be with me, or you’re seeing someone e-else.” It could only be described as a wail, and Jiang Cheng hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop now the dam had burst. “I kn-know I haven’t given you heirs yet, but I’m trying my b-best.”

“Wanyin? Why…” Lan Xichen sucked in a breath, then moved his hands up to cup his face gently, “you silly thing, we’ve discussed this again and again. I don’t care. It will happen when it happens, or it won’t, and that’s fine too,” Lan Xichen’s thumbs rubbed over Jiang Cheng’s cheeks, wiping away the tears, “I’m working late because I’m trying to clear my schedule early, before your next heat cycle. I’ve been looking for places we can get away from the city and take it easy for a while, and you might relax enough to enjoy yourself a little more, instead of worrying incessantly about something that is so completely out of your control.”

Of course, Lan Xichen’s words only made him cry harder, and try to wrap himself around the other.

“And how could I consider seeing someone else? Who would ever match up to my beautiful omega? No one else smells of lotus and soft spring rain on a lake like you, no one else has that fiery, challenging gaze for me,” Lan Xichen feathered his lips against Jiang Cheng’s jawline, and he preened at the praise falling from the other’s lips, hmming his approval, “and no one else would look half as divine spread across our bed, tousled and well-loved and marked so completely as mine, as you do.”

Jiang Cheng growled, “Yes, I want that, show me, alpha, Xichen, show me I’m yours.”

Lan Xichen pulled the torch phone out of Jiang Cheng’s hands, and placed it besides them, so it still cast a glow, and pushed forward to pin the other beneath him. “As my omega wishes.”

***

Jiang Cheng lay back against the unfamiliar-smelling bed, while Lan Xichen rubbed gently at the arch of his right foot. He had never considered his feet erogenous zones but the way Lan Xichen touched him, anywhere, everywhere, so possessively, so soothingly, with such an intent to relax, to make love to. He made a soft, light sound of delight, surrender, and contentment in his throat, which was mirrored by a more aggressive sound in his alpha’s.

The bed would soon be flooded in the scent of their pheromones, overwhelming whatever neutral washing agent the hotel used, when his heat hit in earnest.

But at the moment he was riding it’s edge, extremely sensitive, a little excited, by the nearness of his alpha, but too relaxed to move. That would change soon enough, but he intended to enjoy this for as long as he could.

He was so lucky, to be this cared for, to be this precious to someone. He still felt so guilty that he had suspected Lan Xichen of having an affair, when the other had been working hard to provide an environment where the mate he knew was so tense and stressed about their inability to fall pregnant, could relax, let go, and forget about the newspapers, the pressure of his family, and just enjoy what should, after all, be a  pleasure-filled few days, worshipped by his alpha, like any beautiful omega should be.

“I love you.” The words were out before Jiang Cheng realised, and he would have slapped a hand over his mouth, but the deep, pleased, possessive sound that came from Lan Xichen’s throat made his toes curl.

He felt a flush of heat begin to run through every nerve ending in his body at the same moment Lan Xichen released his ankle, and moved between his lifted knees, almost more tuned in to Jiang Cheng’s heat than he was himself. He looked dangerous, and hungry as he lowered his head to mouth at the pulse pounding at Jiang Cheng’s throat as the room flooded with the smell of lotus lakes in spring.

“Love you too,” he raised his head briefly to reciprocate, before returning back to sucking a mark against Jiang Cheng’s throat.

***

It had been a wonderful idea, to take this away from the city, from all the factors pressing expectation down on Jiang Cheng, and they decided to stay for a day longer than Lan Xichen had originally planned, as they were both exhausted after a very pleasurable heat spent worshipping each other.

It became a regular thing, and it was no surprise to Lan Xichen, who had theorised privately, that it was probably the stress of expectation and regard on Jiang Cheng, that was causing the problems, that it wasn’t too many heats later that they were cuddled on their bed together awaiting the results of the chemist-bought pregnancy test Jiang Cheng had purchased on his way back from the office earlier that evening.

He had sat through so many hopeful tests himself, only to have them come back negative, Jiang Cheng was almost too terrified to look after the required time. He hadn’t wanted to expose Lan Xichen to this side of him, the failed omega, desperate to fulfil his purpose and obsessed with his inability to do so, but he felt that this time, even if it was negative he was in a better place to deal with that, with his alpha, his mate, his husband, by his side.

It was positive, however, and it was a long time before Jiang Cheng was coherent enough at the news to discuss it with Lan Xichen, who held him close as he went from elated to terrified and back again over and over again.

The feelings only abated a little that night in bed, where they lay together in the soft sheen of the lamp behind Jiang Cheng, talking about their future.

“You’ll have to cut back on those ridiculous coffees you drink, baby.” Lan Xichen teased him gently, and Jiang Cheng frowned unhappily.

“Ugh, but where are the gossip mags going to get their photos from if I don’t go to the coffee shop?” He grinned suddenly, “I can’t wait to maternity it up, they are going to get so many baby bump shots. Infertile, separate beds, hah,” he ground his teeth in irritation, then forgot it just as quickly as he went through another plateau of delight at the thought their child growing tenaciously in his belly.

#xichengclipse2020 #xicheng #alpha/beta/omega verse #mpreg #struggling to become pregnant #mdzs fanfic #Shay's stuff